#telling the tales of trying very hard to like women now because men are no good take my ex for example

[bravo4iscool]

girl, I’m not gonna lie to you, I have some free time, and sometimes I really like to use it uselessly. and I found your ig account, then I did some other research and I found a lot about you and your family, so I could really rate you. And yes, I can say properly: you’re ugly.

now, you're kinda right, I give you that. some fit guys do like fat women, maybe one guy out of ten. but these are REALLY PRETTY WOMEN, 'cause I don’t deny that there are beautiful fat women, but they are usually rare, and that’s definitely not you.

I’m not seeking validation wtfff has nothing to do with anything, girl… you seem stupid. I just really found your behavior hilarious. like, how the false illusion of the new age got you, making you really believe in fairy tales. I mean, you're clearly so insecure, trying to pass as “I’m fine with my weight” while really trying to convince yourself that you’re desirable. and like, you’re not 😭 and it’s so fun when you talk about validation, because, you see, I may be petty or bitter or mean, or whatever it is. but, if you really felt confident, pretty, and good about yourself, you would just turn off the anon or ignore me. but no, you’re here, writing answers so you can post and be consoled. that’s how I know you feel pathetic and horrible about yourself, and need these other weirdos to help you fool yourself. you can ignore me, or reply me, it won’t make difference. you too fucking transparent, so easy to read.

or you wouldn’t be doing headcanons of really fit men attracted to you, because if you were desirable and if you really felt that way, you would just know, and not try to reaffirm yourself along with other equally UGLY FAT GIRLS. the main thing here is how out of touch you are with reality. close the tumblr, go to a nice spot in your town, where you KNOW there are hot guys, and please record yourself being chosen by them. if you're so sure of yourself. and open your instagram account, since you have nothing to hide and being ashamed. I mean, you’re pretty right? lol

y’know i’m not doing this cuz i’m insecure💀 also, i never said those hc’s were about me LMAO. i’m very aware that he and every other cod character is fucking fictional💀. this is just my hobby😗✌🏼.

also, why are you so keen about finding out about my personal life? wtf do i have to do with you? it’s fucking creepy to stalk my ig and all that💀. who tf do you think you are?

the only one being pathetic here is you, because you’re out here insulting me via anon haha. at least grow the balls to confront me correctly lol.

but yk, your stupidity and insecurity is pretty hard to ignore. you can have your opinion about me but let me be. i didn’t ask you for it lmao. also, i couldn’t care less about your opinion. you can think i’m ugly, idgaf, but stop annoying me with it.

and idk if you know but talking down on other people has to do with one’s insecurities, so maybe you’re the insecure one here😘.

and yes, i’m fine with my weight. i’ve come to terms with it, since i can’t change it without a medical intervention. is it so hard to believe that someone overweight actually accepts that fact or what? it says that says a lot about you actually.

also, i’m posting this so people can see that there are, unfortunately, still people with the iq of a fucking brick out there. i couldn’t care less about what they tell me. as i said, i’m perfectly fine on my own.

i’m actually laughing writing this because i won’t ignore you. people like you should rethink their life choices ngl.

you’re going crazy over a tumblr post and start to insult me as fat and ugly and you started to fucking stalk me. you’re being the prime example for insecurity rn💀.

your messages can get as long as you want them to be, i will respond to them because it’s sad people still think like you.

there are people out there saying all things about cod or ghost or whoever. if i don’t like them, i scroll, but i don’t start insulting and stalking the author of that post/headcanon/fic or whatever.

grow tf up and get a helmet💀.

[matan4il]

Why I will never give up on Canon Buddie..... Listen I am just a little straight girl who grew up on romance novels. You want Eddie with a women. Well, I mean Vanessa was perfect if you were a writer.

One dare I say she was a better version of Anna and 2 with a little manipulation she could be the girl version of Buck. I mean no one ever could, so don't come for me with pitchforks I just meant in general. She was beautiful, fun, a little heartbroken and didn't add stress to Eddie. Telling the story?? So easy it's a tale as old as time. She shares his culture so let's fake date to throw our tias off. Become friends. Maybe meet Chris. Maybe hesitate to do more because she's jaded and worried it won't work out and how will that effect Chris. Like I have seriously read this story a million times yet the writers never pull the trigger.

My second thing. Again I am a moderately attractive straight single girl. It is not that hard for me to find a relationship. I can throw a rock and find companionship you know?? No disservice to us straights it's just facts. So the fact that the writers intentionally get this wrong while being so loud about the couch screams volumes to me. Especially when you couple it with the fact these 2 do not wing man for each other, talk about sex lives and only refer to the significant other to tell them to dump them. That is the loudest part about their living in each other's back pocket BFF forever relationship. I mean Eddie couldn't even process Buck taking care of himself.

In conclusion 911 if you want me to stop shipping them this all on you. I mean I will never stop. But you could at least try!!

Awww, Nonnie! :D Welcome to the hopeless romantics club! We got comfy cushions for you, as well as cookies. ;)

Regarding Vanessa, yeah. I have seen plenty of rom coms that start off with the exactly interaction she and Eddie had. He's not ready, she's not ready, they come to the date with the intent to let each other down easy, and when they realize they were never an option for the other person, it intrigues them. It could have easily developed in the direction of "instead of going through this repeatedly, how about we fake date to get our Tias off our cases?" and slowly falling for each other. TBH, I wouldn't have been surprised if that's what 911 would go with, since so many shows would. I'm glad it didn't, that the point really was to help Eddie progress on his romantic journey rather than set him up with yet another LI.

I agree with you! I already thought it was eyebrow raising when 911 let Buddie be single throughout the entirety of s3 and a respectable chunk of 4a. Now in s6, they're both once again very single. And we're talking young, good looking, heroic firefighters. It should not be hard for them to find romance, yet out of almost 5 seasons of them being on the show together, roughly 2.5 they spend with both of them being single men. When they're the only single members of the main cast! That is VERY unusual, it's not the route most TV shows would take with their only single characters, you know? That Buck and Eddie are directly responsible for this state of double singleness a part of the time just makes it all more hilarious. XD

I've said it before, I will always ship Buddie. Which means as long as the show is on air and both of their characters are alive, I will hope for canon Buddie. But even if that doesn't happen, Buddie is canon to me. The show has written and filmed their epic love story, and I can't unsee that no matter what. In my head, it will always be just a matter of time before these two morons figure it out.

Thank you so much for this ask, lovely! Have a wonderful day. As always, my ask tag. xoxox

[jofdiamonds]

A tavern on a cliff.

Like something out of a fairy tale.

The sun was disappearing behind the horizon as Aki and Alexander made their way inside, accompanied by a few other men of their crew that also found strong liquor to be the solution to aching muscles and long days spent at sea.

The place was well taken care of. A fire was burning – it was warm outside still, but something told Aki the nights could get chilly. A few patrons here and there, most of them with sour faces, drinking their troubles away; it was too early for anybody else to be there, but no doubt the place would be buzzing with activity in a few hours.

As such, the girl behind the counter had a bored expression. Brown, big eyes and red curly hair, like fire. A round face with full lips and pale skin. She was saying something to a man. Aki couldn’t see him very well, only his back and hair; the former, broad, the latter, curly and dark.

He approached the conversing couple. It was his official duty as the first mate to introduce the crew when the captain was not present, and his unofficial one to buy a first round for everyone present. For their hard work, as a way to keep their spirits high. Aki didn’t care. He was well aware he would get most of his money back later on, when they started getting too drunk to play cards properly and their bets turned riskier and perilous.

‘Good afternoon. I am…’

‘Here for a drink, I assume?’ The young woman cut him, raising her brows and muttering numbers under her breath. She was counting how many of them there were, and her dark eyes only returned back to Aki after doing so.

‘Exactly. My name’s…’

‘Thirsty for what, exactly? Beer, something stronger?’

‘Something stronger!’ A voice behind him, laughter at seeing a woman who was not even in her thirties so… commanding. A curious and strong personality, she had. Aki found himself smiling.

‘Something stronger, yes. We have spent days at sea.’

‘I can tell,’ she simply said, with a crooked smile, putting bottle after bottle at the counter, and tankards beside them. As she was busy doing so, Aki turned to Alexander, hoping to find amusement in his friend’s young features. Instead, Aki saw him looking wide eyed at the young woman, as if he had found a magical creature instead of a mischievous girl.

‘Forgive her, she’s always like this,’ the man who the bartender had been talking with had been the one to talk. He was handsome, with a strong nose and jaw, heavy-lidded eyes and tanned skin, probably as a result of days spent working under the sun. A fisherman, perhaps? He had callused hands, so whatever he did for a living, was certainly physical.

‘Oh, sir, don’t worry. You have a beautiful wife, and beautiful women are allowed to do this sort of thing,’ Aki replied, guessing their relationship… wrong, apparently, because both the man and the woman looked at each other and broke into laughter.

The man shook his head. ‘We are siblings. As if anyone could put up with Cass long enough to marry her.’

Aki didn’t know about that. One look at Alexander told him the young blond marine was more than willing to, at the very least, try.

In fact, as much as Aki would have liked to speak with his friend now that the ground was still beneath their feet and they could do so without being surrounded by at least five other men at all times, Alexander only had eyes for Cass. Words for Cass. He made her laugh a few times and he looked like the proudest person to ever have lived.

It wasn’t long until Hércules – that was the curly-haired man’s name – substituted his sister behind the bar, Cass leaving with Alexander somewhere else. Last Aki saw of any of them, their lips were already pressed together.

‘A rare occurrence. As I say, most people can’t put up with her.’ Hércules laughed, rolling his eyes at watching his sister disappear with a stranger. His tone was, however, earnest and affectionate. The man clearly had a lot of love for his sister.

‘Alexander is a patient man.’ Aki shrugged, also smiling. He could respect a man who loved his family. ‘I guess getting to know someone must be difficult around here. Most of them leave after a couple of days, I assume.’

‘Yeah, that, or the mermaids eat them.’

Aki tilted his head towards one shoulder and squinted his eyes, about to choke on his drink. The mermaids? Was Hércules teasing him? Was this some local running joke that Aki knew nothing about? No. The man was serious. Drying a tankard with a piece of fabric with an expression not different to that he would have had had he been talking about the weather.

‘Mermaids?’

‘Yes. Do you want to see them? They will come, if I ask.’

Aki thought about it for a second. Was this man going to take him to the beach and rob him? No, the tavern seemed to be doing well, these people did not need money. Then, what was it? Was this offer… real?

Aki nodded.

───⋆☆─────────────

Hércules hadn’t lied.

Aki wondered once more if someone hadn’t slipped something on his drink. If he now got drunk with four or five beers, instead of the usual ten, if the months at sea had taken their toll on him.

But no, there was something in the water. Scintillating scales, the colors of the rainbow, and something above them… algae, certainly. Then, why did they look so much like the honey blonde hair of a naked woman?

‘Andro is not around today,’ Hércules said, giving Aki a flask filled with liquor. One that burned his throat, one that made him cough and spit.

‘Andro?’

‘Our older sister. The Sea Witch, Airi… that, right there, do you see her? She turned her into what she is now. A mermaid. It’s a long story, perhaps for another day.’

Aki nodded. He still couldn’t be quite sure that these were no the delusions of an alcoholic, or a drug addict, or simply a person whose mind wasn’t healthy. But the truth was that there was something in the water, and that that something climbed a rock, and stared right into his eyes with ones equally as dark as his, of unfathomable depth.

And afterwards, only one question burned brightly in Aki’s mind – would her lips taste like sea water?

───⋆☆─────────────

Months passed. Cass was pregnant.

‘We didn’t expect it, but she told me the news and… I have asked her to marry me,’ Alexander had told him, with the brightest smile Aki had seen on a man. He was still a sailor, but he now went on shorter trips, always stopping at the tavern where his beloved awaited his return.

Aki had felt very happy for him. For them. They deserved such a thing – both of them had lived hard lives, until then, and the fact that they had found each other, well. Every man deserved hope, and warm arms to return to.

‘The mermaids will take care of you, my love. Come back to us,’ Cass had whispered after hugging Alexander goodbye, with a hand on the lower part of her belly. Not low enough that Aki hadn’t heard.

And, turned out, it was true. The mermaids followed the boat. The mermaids sang the storms away. The mermaids controlled the winds so that they would reach their destination as soon as possible, so that Alexander could return safely and before the baby was due. A black-haired one captaining them, beautiful and deadly, with eyes like an abyss and sharp teeth. Most days white. Some, stained with red.

He sometimes saw the blonde one, too. The one that had been plaguing his dreams. The one whose lips he could still conjure on lonely nights. Airi, Hércules had said.

Aki would find himself going to the ship’s bow and whispering it. Airi, Airi, Airi. Like an incantation, just to see if she appeared.

When she did, Aki wasn’t ready. But how could someone prepare to meet the love of your life?

A night spent talking.

The following one, when they had docked the boat in some small coastal town and as Aki walked through the beach, a shared kiss, that tasted of salt and iron and a little too much to drink.

[noblehcart]

You make it hard to look away. -styxxrook 

@myhiraeth

" I will admit that perhaps... I look a bit better than I did on the ship. "

They both did after a long soaking bath, a bit of rest, food and fresh clothes. But anyone would after three months at sea and then recovery in a greek palace. Styxx's home. She tried very hard to forget the welcome she had received at Styxx's older sister's hands. Nearly being dragged out of the palace being denoted to Styxx's babylonian whore (which was wrong and offensive given her persian dress) and thankfully it was stopped by the very servants Styxx had ordered to care for her that bolted for him first thing. She had never seen him so angry, cold and regal. Threatening to exile his own sister for the behavior. A part of her might have been slightly scared of him as well if he hadn't immediately turned around, deep husky voice now soft quiet and terribly concerned for her state. After a restatement in his official capacity as 'crown prince' she had been sent off to the quarters given to her to change, eat and rest till the evening.

If you keep staring like that the ocean might finally blind you. She had said dryly. You make it hard to look away.

She caught him staring at her as she looked out a balcony with a clear view of the aegean sea. She was still angry at him- infuriated even- given that he had lied to her about who he was. Not just a 'greek' general, but the commander of the stygian omada. Not just a 'general' but the crown prince of didymos. Yes, she had lied with every thing she had about who she was- a noble lady instead of the handmaiden tale she told, but it was a vastly different circumstance.

Men were never kind to women- especially those of nobility. Those that could be hostages. And when she had been revealed to who she was on board he still didn't tell her the truth. She wasn't sure where to begin with forgiveness to him. He surely deserved it. He kept his word still. He nearly killed a man with his bare hands in the market for the derogative accusing mark about her nationality were it not for Stefanos managing to talk sense into him.

Her fingers fiddled with the bracelet Cerci had picked up for her from said offensive vendor trying to make amends to the prince and his 'guest'. Thank the gods Cerci had obvious experience with these men because she felt so utterly lost here in Didymos. She missed home. The respect she had been given as Kian's sister. The hospitality, food, warmth and tradition.

Yet somehow she could forget that with him staring at her like that. She didn't know how he could stare at her like that.

Eyes fell to the unfamiliar clothing on her frame and wondered if that was it. He promised that he'd have servants search out and purchase more persian styled clothing, but in the meantime she'd have to settle for the greek stylings that were already available in the palace. She certainly couldn't and wouldn't complain as it was one of the more finer pieces she had ever worn, but it was certainly in the greek fashion. Something he was vastly more familiar with.

" A bath and fresh clothes and rest does wonders for seafarers." She remarked coolly then quietly added gently to him. " And the fashion in itself is lovely. Thank you for the comforts you have seen to giving me. Its appreciated. "

[8054yamato]

03/19/2024

Fuck it, same day post before sleep. I have been posting quite a bit this month. I think I have posted far more than any of my previous months. Anyway, I am skipping the LGBT community for now and moving on to the Asians. This may sound targeted and you are exactly correct. It is targeted. I hate everyone in this world because I am miserable and I can not stand anyone being happy.

Casual racism and sarcasm aside, I would like to talk about Japan, India, and Korea this post.

Today, I learned Japan has the most kinkiest fetishes in the porn industry. Do not ask how or why I know. One thing led to another and I found myself in the JAV rabbit hole. The west has the taboo and infamous step-bro type of content. Porn is already so fucking weird. With that type of content being the most popular in the west, that shit just baffles me. Japan's kinky films actually have a massive female fanbase which is unreal to me. The most popular genres I have seen are {r*pe, old-to-VERY young, and mother/auntie} types. That is so surreal to me how that JAV is popular amongst females in Japan and it is those same fetishes that would be another's worst nightmare.

Historically, Japan are known for actually comittimg those acts during and before Emperor Shōwa's reign. He looks like he try hards every Pokémon game. He looks like a geek, a nerd. Not the good kind, but the sweaty, no shower for weeks, and retarded kind.

The Japanese Imperial Army's actions were documented because it was more recent, but if you dig deeper into the history rabbit hole, you will find crazy and inhumane shit. I would argue it is far more inhumane than the concentration camps of Germany.

One of the most infamous ones being Unit 731 and the most well known of all being the R*pe of Nanjing. Aside from up to 80,000 victims of sexual assult and well over 200,000 deaths occuring, the way these poor souls died was tragic. Women would get impaled from their ass all the way through their head with a rod or something. Men would meet a similar fate.

Those two events only occured during WWII, now imagine before that. Do some research, you will not regret it. History is cool but it has the most gut-wrenching tales you will ever hear. It does not come from fiction, but from other humans alike.

It is now India's turn. The country that also loves r*pe, but not the fiction kind. They love anything sexual and unsanitary. One of the vendors was caught masterbaiting and placing his semen in their product. A Twitch streamer (Korean, I think) was groped and pinned by a man live and in public. A couple travelling the world who went through the most dangerous countries and even made peace with the Taliban was no match for these dirty fucks. If you can not tell, I hate India. They brought this upon themselves.

You know how I said to stop generalizing a group of people based off a minority? Except, these types of things are not a minority. Unsanitary food vendors, rampant of sexual assult and cases, scammers, and so on. I do not know how much % of Indians are involved in any type of actions listed above, but I am sure it is above 20% which are numbers I pulled out of my ass. Quick little hypocritical ramble. Never visiting India, not in a million years.

I also hate the Indian government because they are in alliance with the Chinese Communist Party who babies North Korea. I can not name a single positive thing from India. Not Indians, but India. No, Google does not count because it is American based. Fuck Google anyway, India can take credit for that.

South Korea. I love K-Dramas but I have not watched many. I love K-Ballads and some K-Pop just as much. Unfortunately, I have to be unhinged and like the ones above, magnify the wrongs of that country.

South Korea has an idol problem. That goes the same for Japan, but South Korea is arguably worse because they had a global impact while Japan has a more degenerate type. SK has a massive bandwagon problem. While this is common in the west, it is especially deadly in SK. Your odds of coming back after being wrongfully accused as an Idol or as a civillian is slim to none, especially if they accuse you for 'man on woman' crime.

I will not get into many detail for now. Just know that these idols and bandwagon culture impacted the west so much that some people's identity are these stars. Plastic surgery to look like them is not rare either.

Through word of mouth, I have heard kids graduating the American equivalent of elementary, middle, and highschool would get plastic surgery as a birthday present. I do not know how true that is, but that is funny as fuck. I love it and hate it. It is nowhere near the levels of the west's corny gender change surgery. I am glad South Korea has not stooped to that level.. yet.

At least on social media, I have seen soooooooo much makeup on these young Koreans (16yo+). It is as bad as the Chinese side. If you know, then you know. I wish the full white Michael Jackson skin was not so massive. This in combination with the plastic surgery, nose jobs, and so on is what really makes it bad. I feel like these people want to look as close as possible to their idol and I say it is unhealthy.

You thought I was going to go on the more dark side of Korea like light sentences, punishments, and government right? Well, I do not know enough to chat about it. Maybe an another day. I just wanted to say all that just to hate on an another group of people to fuel my racist meter. I will raise my sexist and bigot meter up for you next post.

Also, if there are errors, I am on my phone.

Okay, bye bye dykes. I am sleepy.

[mindbat]

Books Read in 2023

(yes, this is an extremely late post. it’s been an, um, eventful winter for me)

Apparently I read 37 (!) books last year 😳 That’s a little less than 2022 (45), but still nearly one a week. Goodness.

Anyway, if you’re looking to pick up something new, I thought I’d list them all out, grouped roughly by vibe and in order read.

Books to Get You Through a Breakup

Because yeah, it’s hard.

No Bad Parts by Richard Schwartz: One of the first books recommended by my therapist. I was skeptical going in, but I’ve found its techniques to be incredibly helpful over the last year.

Conscious Uncoupling by Katherine Woodward Thomas: Veers awfully close to the cult of achievement (“If you do your divorce just right, you’ll get a gold star!”), but still a useful set of tools for how to limit the damage when your life blows up.

The Sh!t No One Tells You About Divorce by Dawn Dais: Exactly the kind of cathartic, laugh-out-loud guide to the aftermath that I needed, particularly after having read the previous book.

The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood: An amazing novel, and a good reminder that men are bastards, and some women are, too.

Books to Put You to Sleep

Sometimes you read before bed for a reason.

The Great Sea by David Abulafia: I swear, I wanted to like this one. Really! I usually love this kind of big scope history. But ye gods is this one dull. Just…could…not…stay…awake.

Books I Don’t Remember

I think both of these were good? But for the life of me I can’t tell you which one is which, or what I learned. Probably says more about me than the books, though.

The Invention of Russia by Arkady Ostrovsky: I think this is a blow-by-blow tale of how the media in Russia changed from the latter Soviet years to the early years of Putin. If it’s the book I’m thinking of, it’s very much an insider’s view, that made me feel both the hope of the early years after the fall of the Soviet Union and the disillusionment that set in afterward.

The Age of Illusions by Andrew J. Bacevich: As Gandalf once said, “I have no memory of this place.”

Books to Radicalize You

In the best way, I mean. A radical for making things better, because you can see how we got to where we are now.

Capital in the 21st Century by Thomas Piketty: Took me a while to get to this one, and I’m sorry I held off on it for so long. A well-researched, readable account of the long-term (200 years!) trends in modern economies, that explains both how things were so different (and good!) in the years just after World War II, and how things have reverted to the mean (which means worse) since then.

Capitalism, Alone by Branko Milanovic: A fascinating thesis about the role of communism in the development of what used to be called the Third World, wrapped in a large work that is completely in thrall to debunked theories of classical economics.

The Great Transformation by Karl Polanyi: This book, combined with Piketty’s, completely flipped my understanding of the last few hundred years of economic history. Completely demolishes the idea of the “market” as something separate from society, and demonstrates how the pursuit of the impossible dream of a “free market” has resulted in so much destruction and misery.

Books to Catch You Up with The Atlantic

No tea, no shade, but these books are, let’s say, more pop, less substance?

So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed byJon Ronson: I like to believe that Ronson is coming from a good place here, trying to put a human face on public figures that have gone through a very public shaming on social media. Which is a laudable goal! We should all keep in mind that what’s on the other end of the “Post” button is a human being. But I did some digging on his profiles, and he turns out to have left out a lot of the most damning parts. So, definitely a skewed view.

Twilight of Democracy by Anne Applebaum: An extremely serious subject, a serious (and good) writer. And yet. A slight book that left little impression on me.

Books to Ruin Your Friend’s Gladiator Viewing Party

Because how are you going to be that jerk if you haven’t done your research?

The Inheritance of Rome by Chris Wickham: Incredibly readable account of the six hundred years following the fall of the Western Empire. This was a re-read for me, and it’s even better than I remembered.

Mortal Republic by Edward J Watts: Picked this up after hearing Watts on the excellent podcast “Subject to Change.” An excellent account of how the (very much not inevitable) choices of Rome’s elites led to the end of the Republic.

Thebes by Paul Cartledge: True, this is about Ancient Greece, not Rome, but bear with me. At least, bear with me long enough to warn you off of this book. It’s readable, it’s written by an expert, but for me it never really gelled into a coherent picture of Theban society.

Books to Fight the Patriarchy

Because patriarchy is a trap, my friends, for all genders.

Trojan Horses by Page DuBois: Fantastic explanation of how so many of the ways ancient societies are presented are based on flawed, racist, assumptions.

The Once and Future Sex by Eleanor Janega: Accessible and short corrective on some of the many (many!) myths we moderns hold about gender in medieval society.

Femina by Janina Ramirez: More medieval history, this time bringing to life the stories of women — warriors, rulers, saints — who shaped the Middle Ages in Europe.

Books to Get Lost In

Sometimes you just need a good story to dive into and not come up for a few days, yeah?

Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan: Fantastic world-building, a passionate and ass-kicking heroine, with a story that puts the fate of several heavenly kingdoms on the line. Looking forward to the sequel.

How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix: Scarfed this down in a single day’s binge read. Warning: Puppets.

Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes: A classic I re-read for a book club. Still hits me right in the feels, but, um, beware the very-60s treatment of its female characters.

Roadside Picnic by the Strugatsky Brothers: Classic Soviet-era sci-fi. VanderMeer’s Southern Reach series is basically a re-telling of this book. In my opinion, the original (this one) is better.

The Searcher by Tara French: Every novel I read by French leaves me wrung out and gut-punched, in the best way.

Middlemarch by George Elliot: This might become a yearly read for me.

Station Eternity by Mur Lafferty: The first of a new series by the mighty Mur. It’s a noir murder mystery set on a sentient alien space station, need I say more?

The City & The City by China Miéville: Wow. Felt like an allegory for Israel/Palestine, Europe/Africa, and the latter stages of the Cold War, all wrapped in a paranoid thriller where archeology plays a starring role. Not sure anyone but Miéville could pull this off (but he does).

Books to Rediscover Your Inner Hippie

In these days of shifting climates and ecological loss, there’s never been a better time to reconnect with the natural world (so we can save it).

The Arbornaut - Meg Lowman: Fascinating recount of a career spent literally in the trees, to explore the top of the forest (an area which is still not fully understood). Made me look up more, past the trunk of the trees around here, to their crowns.

Finding the Mother Tree - Suzanne Simard: Another career retrospective from a top-class scientist (who happens to be local to my neck of the woods). I loved the descriptions of her research, and her findings (about how linked up the trees in a forest are, how interdependent) changed the way I see anything that grows.

Books to Help You Understand Others

Because sometimes the only thing you need to stop arguing with someone is to see things from their perspective.

The Nineties by Chuck Klosterman: As I move through my fourth decade of life, I find myself interested in learning more about what was happening in the larger world while I was growing up. I was hoping for both a memory boost and a larger viewpoint on the decade. I definitely got the memory boost, but the larger viewpoint was lacking.

High Conflict - Amanda Ripley: Got this because I was in a high conflict situation with a co-worker, and hoped it would help with that. Book turned out to be a bit deeper than I expected based on its business-suit packaging; actually shed some light on how society in the US (and other places) has split since 2016, and how such conflicts can become self-sustaining, long past when the initial grievance occurred. Well worth the read.

Tribe - Sebastian Junger: I picked this up thinking it would be “just” a look at soldiers and PTSD, but it turned out to be much more. An interesting study in how humans in groups react under extreme stress, from Londoners during the Blitz to trapped miners as well as soldiers returning home after war. One of those I’m going to have to re-read, I think, to fully absorb everything in it.

Books to Pass a Lazy Afternoon With

Curl up with one of these (and a blanket and some tea) on a rainy day.

Danubia - Simon Winder: The second of Winder’s three books on middle European history, which I read out of order. Rambling in the best way. I retain almost nothing of the history of the period or the region after reading this, but I was never bored, either, and he doesn’t shy away from the problematic history he has to cover.

Germania - Simon Winder: The first book of Winder’s series, and the most apologetic of the bunch. He seems compelled to apologize, both for being bold enough to write a narrative history at all, and then to write about Germany (which his generation, and mine, were raised to see as inherently suspect). Once past the throat-clearing, though, we’re off to the same rambling (but entertaining) stories as the other two books.

Books to Make You Want to Write More

If you need that kind of motivation, that is.

The War of Art - Steven Pressfield: If you’ve ever wanted a drill sergeant to yell at you about your writing, this is the book for you. If you get turned off by such gung-ho chest-beating approaches, this is not the motivational book you want.

Books I Couldn’t Fit Anywhere Else

Not everything fits neatly into a category.

The Medieval Archer - Jim Bradbury: A bit dry, but still an interesting counter to several myths about archery as represented in popular media. Not least of which is that women weren’t hunters; not enough books print medieval illustrations of women hunting with bows, but this one does!

The Bonfire of the Vanities - Tom Wolfe: Okay, so I picked this one up because I read The Devil’s Candy, which is the (fascinating) story of how making the movie version of this went completely off the rails. After reading that take, I watched the movie (which is indeed a hot mess) and decided to read the book. Which I bounced off of, several times, before deciding to force myself to finish it. It’s, um, a very 80s thing, which is both the best and the worst thing I can say about it. I can’t really recommend it, though it was better than the movie, I suppose.

How to Astronaut - Terry Virts: Exactly what it says on the tin. Runs through Virts’ recruitment, training, and experiences as an astronaut over the last few decades of space flight. Virts sometimes reads like a high school jock made good (which is a trigger for me personally), but his love for his work and his pride in his part in advancing our understanding of the environment of space shines through.

[smartrelationshiptips]

Why Does My Ex-Girlfriend Hate Me: Top 5 Reasons?

Why Does My Ex Girlfriend Hate Me? I’m not sure what the exact reason is but a strong possibility is that she felt some major emotional trauma when you broke up with her. Maybe she never got over it and still has feelings for you. Women are more sensitive to emotion than men, so this could be one reason why she hates you.

None of these are definite reasons but just possibilities as to why your ex girlfriend hates you. You will probably just have to ask her directly what the reason is and see how she reacts.

why does my ex girlfriend hate me: Top 5 reasons

It’s hard to go through life without ever having a break up. The question of why your ex girlfriend hates you might seem like a silly one, but it’s quite an important topic. Understanding the answer to this question can help you turn things around and get back into their good graces.

Here are 5 reasons why your ex girlfriend may hate you:

1) You were abusive.

An abusive relationship is one of the most unhealthy and damaging relationships you can ever have. Even after you break up, this kind of damage often lingers into your ex’s future relationships. She may deal with trust issues or emotional trauma that results from being in an abusive relationship.

2) You cheated on her.

If the woman you’re dealing with has never been cheated on before, it can be devastating to her when she finds out about it. This betrayal cuts deep and often leads to many bad feelings that last for many years afterward. It might take time, but if your ex-girlfriend hates you right now because of cheating, she probably will eventually come around – especially if it was just a single incident!

3) You broke up with her or she broke up with you:

This one is quite obvious. When a relationship ends, we feel terrible, and in many cases, we hate the person who left us. It could be because they broke up with you or because you did that, but no matter the reason for your breakup, most of the time, you’ll end up hating them (even if only for a short period).

4) She is mad at something else:

When someone is mad at you for something real or imagined, they will often focus their anger on you. Your ex may be hating you simply because she got fired from her job, and it’s easier to deal with this situation by hating you instead of looking for a new job. This type of situation occur more frequently in younger people who don’t have

5) Lack of trust:

People easily fall into the trap of jealousy, and they tend to become suspicious even when there is no need. As a result, you may experience hatred from your ex just because she learned that you had kissed another girl at a party without her knowledge.

You May Like:

Why Does My Ex Want to Hang Out Ex Gf Keeps Texting Me

How do you tell if your ex hates you?

It’s never good when an ex-lover hates you. But how do you know for sure? There are many signs that your ex is angry at you, ranging from the subtle to the obvious. Here are a few tell-tale signs that they’re not over it yet: 

1) They can’t seem to get through a conversation without insulting or attacking you in some way.  

2) When they talk about their new partner, they’ll compare them unfavorably to you and say something like, “I don’t have to put up with this crap.” 

3) They refuse to give back any of their belongings because “you deserve nothing.” 

4) They try very hard not to be alone in the same room as you or turn away when you walk by because if they see you, it’s a glaring reminder of what they once had that is now gone forever.

5) They’ve blocked your number but keep calling your friends and family to complain about how awful you are. 

What does it mean when my ex says she hates me?

When an ex says she hates you, it can be really hard to know what that means. It could simply mean the person is angry with you and doesn’t want anything to do with you right now. It might also mean that your actions or words so hurt her that she wants nothing more than for you to suffer too. And when a person tells their partner, they hate them in bed. It usually means they’re feeling intense sexual frustration.

Conclusion

This blog post concludes that it’s difficult to determine the reasons why your ex-girlfriend hates you. There are many possible explanations, and they could all be true, so there’s no way to know without asking her directly.

If she won’t talk with you about what happened or if she refuses contact altogether, then try talking to a therapist who specializes in relationships instead. They can offer you insight into how people think when their feelings have been hurt by others during past relationships and help guide you on the best course of action.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

"I do not know how you observe guest right on your mountain, ser. In the north we hold it sacred. Wun Wun is a guest here."

Ser Patrek smiled. "Tell me, Lord Commander, should the Others turn up, do you plan to offer hospitality to them as well?" (Jon IX, ADwD)

Note: I didn't realise that I hadn't discussed this at all so I'd like to give my thoughts, unpopular as said thoughts may be. I'll share the comment I left on the video:

The idea of offering the Others guest right is a very interesting idea to me. It brings to mind the discussion Jon has with both Bowen Marsh and Septon Cellador, of which he expresses his wish to try to communicate/understand the wights and by extension, the Others, because he sees them as a common enemy and notes that it is important to know one's enemies.

Finally the Lord Steward cleared his throat. "Your lordship knows best, I am sure. Might I ask about these corpses in the ice cells? They make the men uneasy. And to keep them under guard? Surely that is a waste of two good men, unless you fear that they…"

"…will rise? I pray they do."

Septon Cellador paled. "Seven save us." Wine dribbled down his chin in a red line. "Lord Commander, wights are monstrous, unnatural creatures. Abominations before the eyes of the gods. You…you cannot mean to try to talk with them?"

"Can they talk?" asked Jon Snow. "I think not, but I cannot claim to know. Monsters they may be, but they were men before they died. How much remains? The one I slew was intent on killing Lord Commander Mormont. Plainly it remembered who he was and where to find him." Maester Aemon would have grasped his purpose, Jon did not doubt; Sam Tarly would have been terrified, but he would have understood as well. "My lord father used to tell me that a man must know his enemies. We understand little of the wights and less about the Others. We need to learn." (Jon VIII, ADwD)

What this also brings to mind is the free folk — they themselves were Otherised in their way by the people of the North:

The wildlings were cruel men, she said, slavers and slayers and thieves. They consorted with giants and ghouls, stole girl children in the dead of night, and drank blood from polished horns. And their women lay with the Others in the Long Night to sire terrible half-human children. (Bran I, AGoT)

The giants are treated this way as well:

That gave Othell a start. "The monster in the yard?"

"His name is Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun, Leathers tells me. A lot to wrap a tongue around, I know. Leathers calls him Wun Wun, and that seems to serve." Wun Wun was very little like the giants in Old Nan's tales, those huge savage creatures who mixed blood into their morning porridge and devoured whole bulls, hair and hide and horns. This giant ate no meat at all, though he was a holy terror when served a basket of roots, crunching onions and turnips and even raw hard neeps between his big square teeth. (Jon VIII, ADwD)

and it took Jon communicating, learning, and understanding their culture for him to sympathise and befriend them. I believe this is a fitting parallel since Jon also saw the free folk initially as an enemy:

Jon watched [Gilly] go, his joy in the morning's brittle beauty gone. Damn her, he thought resentfully, and damn Sam twice for sending her to me. What did he think I could do for her? We're here to fight wildlings, not save them. (Jon III, ACoK)

And yet...

I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. (Jon XI, ADwD)

And hosts a feast on Alys's wedding day to Sigorn.

Another thing to note is that the free folk, these "others", swore fealty to him in order to pass below the Wall, and bound their word to Jon with trinkets and odds-and-ends. As Lord Commander, Jon considers Castle Black his castle and seat (naturally):

Castle Black was still and silent, its halls and towers dark. My seat, Jon Snow reflected. My hall, my home, my command. A ruin. (Jon VI, ADwD)

...so instead of food they were granted protection and a flavour of guest right through their donated trinkets.

Fellow Jon stans, I really want to know what you think about this theory.

[battle-of-alberta]

What would Ed and Cal be like if they were ladies? Have they/would they ever dress in dresses/drag?

This sure is a popular question lol either someone knows my other blogs or has been noticing the hints

in the spirit of the “ed is the gay cousin of the province” stereotype as well as the spirit of “we have renamed our expo so many times to the point that we voted to call it K Days after the organizers tried and failed to break free of the Klondike theme” and also “hapo is lowkey obsessed with this historical event” i finally officially present Klondyke Kate to the blog.

Ed doesn’t exclusively do historical drag nor is he pressingly concerned with accuracy 100% of the time but for Kate’s debut I wanted to do something that was clearly inspired by the period she originated from, the 1890s (aka that gilded era that the met gala folks failed so spectacularly at). Klondyke Kate is also mostly inspired by Kathleen Rockwell who also bore the moniker.

The issue with combining Victorians and modern drag is that the makeup is the polar opposite of exaggerated, this was a time when adding colour to your cheeks and lips automatically branded you a painted lady (though obviously Kate isn’t above a little cheating and she also has the occasional dalliance with 20th century gay nineties makeup, hence the nails). There’s a little bit of oil on the eyelids for shine, dark thick eyebrows, and a smattering of gold dust here and there.) Kate also would go fairly heavy on concealer and powdering her face and neck to be as pale as possible!

The event referred to here is the “All Canadian Route” to the Klondike gold fields: local boosters and outfitters advertised the overland route through Edmonton as preferable to taking a steamship up from Seattle or Victoria to Alaska. Lots of really dumb people got really taken advantage of and either gave up and went home, gave up and hung around Edmonton, or died. (This is one reason why the Edmonton exhibition folks aren’t a fan of the theme even if Edmonton did turn a big profit from it.)

Would the others do drag...? Would Calvin? I think he would certainly be much more reticent about it and it’s hard for me to imagine circumstances other than a. a bet lost or b. a begrudging promise for one of his sister’s charity/fundraising events (just d-don’t spread any photos!)

[bethanydelleman]

The Problem with Virginity and Jane Austen

Long post and discussions of sex, non-graphic mention of sexual assault

There was a really thought provoking post by @anghraine which has me thinking about the male heroes and sex in Jane Austen’s novels.

From a modern perspective, I think it can be nicer to imagine that all of the Austen hero men, Darcy, Knightley, Brandon, Wentworth, Tilney, Bingley, Edward, and Edmund, are virgins. After all, they live in a pre-birth control era and syphilis is running rampant. None of us want to imagine Elizabeth’s nose falling off twenty years down the road or Catherine bumping into a very familiar looking child in Woodston village. (and yes, I’m well aware they had some forms of birth control but nothing like today, women were desperate for what we have today, it’s a modern miracle)

I am no sociologist, but I have observed a lot of human behaviour from the present and a lot of sex is had, and unsafe sex too. Teenagers are wild. I also know from church records in the period that many people “anticipated their vows” because there are a miraculous number of babies born within a few months of their parents marrying who live to tell the tale. I also know that London was full of prostitutes and many high and wealthy men had mistresses, sometimes very publically. The navy had problems with homosexual sex (which may have been a social acceptance problem or a rape problem *ahem* modern military) and with a lot of prostitution occuring on shore (source: Brian Southam who wrote a wonderful book called Jane Austen and the Navy) It was a work hard, party hard sort of lifestyle, as we can see below in this Thomas Rowlandson painting:

So the least likely to be a virgin in my mind is Wentworth, with his eight years of success at sea, followed by Brandon, who was stationed abroad in the military, also trying to get over a lost love, and Knightley, based on age alone (he is the oldest at 38). 

Now on to the big issue, are we readers wishing virginity on the Jane Austen men for the right reasons? Syphilis and natural children aside, I grew up in a church that pushed the purity gospel and it is not good. It messes people up. They are now writing books about what it did to people. So I don’t want to force puritanical ideals on Jane Austen’s heroes just because I was taught some very harmful rhetoric.

I personally know men who waited for marriage, but they also tended to marry early (22-25). In most churches who teach this message, both men and women marry because they want to have sex (even though we aren’t supposed to do that, I know, it’s very shocking s/). So I can see Edmund and Edward being virgins on their wedding nights because they are both religious and both quite young (plus a secret engagement formed when Edward was 19). Even Bingley might be, though he seems much more out in the world. But the older these men get and still seem indifferent to marrying, I think they are getting something elsewhere. (they may also have low libido, this is very possible and not discussed enough but I can only say so much in one post)

I listened to a lecture once about if Darcy is a virgin which ended with the professor saying, “Of course not, he went to university” and he then explained that a lot of drinking and sex was happening at these places. Now we know Darcy looked down on what Wickham was doing at Cambridge, but was this because Darcy was going about it “the right way” while Wickham was seducing tradesmen’s daughters and servants? Possible too.

It is also possible that some of these Hero Austen men might have a mistress down the road. If you want to have sex, there is always a possibility of having a baby. Lady Bertram, with her perfect four child family, might well have told Sir Thomas to start looking elsewhere. I have read a letter from a woman in this century who sent her husband away because she had five babies in five years and she was done. It’s just a whole different concept than today. There was no “trying” for a baby, you had sex and babies came. But add to that half a family being swept away in sudden illness, you were relying on those extra children to make it to adulthood. Women faced being pregnant constantly for 15-20 years!

So yes, I would like the Austen men to be virgins (and I really think basically all the unmarried women we meet are), but I think it’s a desire heavily influenced by my own upbringing and the Victorian era. Henry Crawford, who is morally dubious but still, completely separates love and sex in his mind. That is something that seems crazy to us today, but the aristocracy at the time seem to share this view. You have a wife, you treat her “right” and you have a mistress on the side. Somehow, in this era, that was accepted as okay.

I agree that Jane Austen probably wasn’t on board with a lot of this, but she also wasn’t privy to those conversations that we would also need to hear to have a full view of the era. Were the men bragging about sexual conquests when the women left after dinner? Was a good husband one who kept a mistress and didn’t let anyone know? Or one who didn’t get the servants pregnant? Or was it good enough not to mess with your own class? (Darcy did not decide to warn the lower class people of Meryton about Wickham, are those women below his notice?) Everyone is horrified by the treatment of Eliza Williams, but if Willoughby had provided a hundred a year for the baby would he be okay? Emma seems to approve of what Harriet’s father has done in her maintenance.

I just don’t know. 

[cinnamonest]

//extra toxic fuckboy behaviors especially at the end, impreg, slutshaming, blackmail, mildly sexist But anyway instead of Childe drugging post have Childe drunk sex post Childe with a cute fem subordinate darling. The thing is, he doesn't actually drug you, per se. It's a little more deceptive than that -- you're certainly under the influence, though. Like Kaeya, he's only doing this if he's reached a point where he's desperate. You've turned him down over and over, he's tried everything he can to get you to fuck him and you won't. He's frustrated and blueballed and that's a very unfortunate combination for poor darling, because he's considerably less nice when he's frustrated. But that's what you deserve. If you were good and just let him fuck you all those times he tried before -- and believe him, he tried a LOT -- then this wouldn't have to happen. He tried so many times, and he tried everything he knows! All the lines he rehearsed in his head didn't work, and he came on pretty heavy, leaving him just feeling sad and bitter. Obviously you want him, how could you not, so he’s just doing something wrong. He's your superior, he could just, dunno, demand it? But that would feel kinda emasculating, to be honest, at least, more so than the plan he does settle on. And that's why you won't be knocked out, not all the way. He's very particular about it. He doesn't have anything against this morally, no, it's normalized to him, and it's not like he'd get in trouble. Granted, he has plenty of drugs available. It's pretty well known that the Fatui guys do this kind of thing pretty frequently, the men go in groups to taverns in Mondstadt and pick through girls and even some young guys to find the most naive and gullible to spike and lure away when they start swaying. Luckily for those, at least, it's a one time ordeal they can forget and move on from, but you aren't going to be so lucky. Nor does he need to drug you to get what he wants. He thinks you're a little stupid, really. You accept his invitation so quickly. Camped out in the wilderness with nothing but liquor and your own two selves. For a moment, it occurs to him he doesn't even need to put you under the influence, he could just force you right here and you couldn't do a thing. Still, he did have to pay a bit to get this nice stuff, so he might as well, and he can't afford you screaming and drawing attention from a potential passerby. So he watches you take the cup designated as yours, and before you can even take a moment to question or doubt, he challenges you. You can't outdrink him, he says. Bet you're a lightweight. You'd probably get sick a few shots in. Where he's from, people actually know how to hold their alcohol, unlike you weak-livered people. And of course, you scoff, you fold your arms, you insist he's wrong, just as he knew you would, just as he hoped you would. And he just smiles at you. Ok, prove it then. You glare back and say you're on. You don't question that he's pouring out of two separate flasks. You can't see the color difference between the liquids in the darkness of the night sky, nor the grimace on his face as he drinks -- maybe he should have brought water from the town rather than filling his flask out of the river, yuck. Your determined face is so cute. Your eyelids start to get heavy. You scrunch your face as your blink and try to stay alert. You drop one of your shots on the ground and he smiles and says maybe you should just accept defeat. You shake your head and keep going. Admittedly, he's actually a bit impressed, you got more than he thought you would by the time you finally drop the glass for good and slump on the ground. Whew. About time, he was starting to get sick of drinking so much water. And you do twitch a bit, open your eyes and stumble around and mutter something about not accepting defeat, you'll prove him wrong, but he just laughs and picks you up and drags you into the tent with ease. He likes it when you're not blacked out all the way. That's why drugging you would have been no fun. This way, your eyes open just a bit, heavily lidded and blinking, you mumble out incoherent words. You protest just a bit when you feel your clothes slide off -- what are you... but you don't finish the question. He's a good guy, really, he cares about you, which is why he does a quick check and feels your skin to make sure you're not actually under any alcohol poisoning or something, but your skin is warm and dry, not clammy. Good, now you can get to the good part. He thinks about how grateful you should be. His friends and subordinates even have teased him for the longest time because he won't just go out with them to try to get lucky somewhere or participate in their drugging of randoms, no, he's whipped, they snicker, obsessed with this one little bitch that just won't put out. He can't say they're wrong, and that irritates him even more that you humiliated him like that. Which is why this isn't just a one time thing, no, this is part of the plan. He talks to you while he fucks you, maybe you'll remember some of it, maybe not. Actually, hopefully not everything, since he more or less admits how desperate he is in his lust-hazed rambling, how much it's irritated him that you wouldn't just be his and let him fuck you. Why can't you just admit you like him? Why do you have to play hard to get? He rambles about how soft your body is. How good pussy really does feel, holy shit, those guys were right, it's so warm and grips his dick so nicely. Not that he'd limit himself to that, while he's got you like this he might as well put his dick in your limp mouth, but admittedly he imagines that would feel a lot better if you were awake and actually sucking on it. Your mouth moves just a bit, and in your nearly-blacked-out state your tongue runs over the intrusion and you let out the softest confused little sound, but that's all you do. But he makes sure to breed you, cumming several times, all deep deep deep inside of your tight cunt. Again, part of the plan. Just not the most important part of the plan. The most important part is the kamera. It captures moment after moment. The first round he just leaves it aside, takes time to really just live in this sweet, precious moment... and then he breaks the kamera out. Gets all the nice shots with his dick in your holes. Gets a few full body ones, makes sure it's unmistakable as you. Captures your cute drunk face, with your eyes open just a bit, it looks like you're just awake but eyes lidded from arousal. You look awake. Willing. And so, when he finally goes to sleep, he does so very very happily and confident. And when you wake up, he was so rough that there's absolutely no doubt as to what transpired. Your throat and pussy are sore as hell, you're both naked in bed and his cum is still leaking out of you. The regret and shame comes crashing down, holy shit, you slept with your boss that's been trying to fuck you for ages now and your life is over. You'll have to transfer or something. But then... you know you drank on your own choice, but something feels... wrong. He's heavily snoring away, so in morning light you spot the flasks from last night. Your head is pounding, but you make your way over to the first one, and take a swig and spit it back out, yeah, that's the stuff you had... and then take a swig from the other... and when you taste water it all clicks. Bastard. You shake him awake in fury and immediately start telling him off, cursing and snarling. He was half expecting that, to be honest. Sure, obviously you want him, but he gets that you'd be a little mad over the way you got what you wanted, and you’re just embarrassed because you were so dumb, you're just hysterical like that. And you’re just naturally ashamed after fucking, like most girls apparently are, he gets that. But he just smiles and laughs in your face. It cuts deep, it's like a knife in your stomach, because you know why. He's untouchable, even if people believed you, nothing will happen to him, and he knows that. He has nothing to fear. You grit your teeth and your eyes tear up and your lip quivers and you finally drop your head and sniffle, asking him to just take me back. You'll quit, transfer to another department, and then, you tell him bitterly, I'll never have to see you again, at least. And that's what makes his smile drop. You're not gonna do that, he says. Your eyes widen with some new horror when you see the pictures. He talks to you like a child, in that dumb oversimplified way of speech, it's degrading and dehumanizing. Explains that this is how it's gonna go. You're gonna keep being his little subordinate. You're gonna be his girlfriend, publicly. And you're gonna fuck him whenever he wants. If you decide you don't like that, the entire branch, hell, the entire organization sees these photos. You have a very easy, simple choice. It's up to you to decide what happens. Oh, and you're probably pregnant, by the way, he timed this whole thing based on that calendar you keep that he snuck a look at. Would hate for you to have to deal with that on your own, right? People do envy you, down the line. How easy your job must be, since you're nothing more than an assistant now. Everyone knows you're just fucking the boss, that's probably how you got that position in the first place, right? And it's not like he doesn't make it obvious. Whenever he gets with the group of guys at his own level, when they all start saying horrendous things about the women they work with and sharing over-embellished tales as men do, he has plenty of very detailed stories to brag about the cute girlfriend he has. How she drops to her knees at any given moment, and how good and tight she is, and how eager she is, how much she loves fucking him, worships him, he's not like the pathetic bastards that have to go drug some poor unsuspecting thing once a month or so, no, he can get all the sweet, devoted pussy he wants at any time. He has the pictures to prove it! They roll their eyes because they've seen the pictures a hundred times now, everyone has, he shows every guy he works with, and they all know not to tell her that they've seen them. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter, she'd be dumb to leave him this late into pregnancy anyway.

[trimitive]

So… I’m not going to call you a bigot, but I am going to, as politely as possible, remind you that the experience of trans individuals, pre or post, are not a universal experience.

I can and will agree with you that transitioning is not a cure for depression. If you are a young person who’s chronically depressed, this isn’t a fix-all, and take into consideration that depression might trick you into thinking this is what to do. Take time to experiment with your gender expression— celebrate your body as it is, if you can, and make EDUCATED choices. Resources are becoming more and more available.

I’d like to share my counter-story. I had severe dysphoria. The first time I technically came out to my mother was when I was 5, 2 days after kindergarten started. I was understandably dismissed as an imaginative child.

When I started puberty, I was in Hell. Life had been hard, but the best way I can describe it is walking around in a mascot outfit, and being known as that mascot, not me. Having to play the role of someone you inherently weren’t, not fitting in with boys or girls. Having to try too hard to be “enough” of a girl. I had more imposter syndrome as a CIS women than a trans man. I couldn’t look in mirrors, couldn’t see pictures of myself. I hated myself so much, I’d cry every day. I went to therapy after my first suicide attempt, but it didn’t address the root of my problem, which was bodily dysphoria.

Then I cut my hair off.

I didn’t have a big light bill by moment.

I didn’t have this grand epiphany.

I just saw myself in the mirror and had a moment like “oh, there you are.” I tried on some clothes for men… started staying that way.

This was back in the old days. Transgenderism wasn’t a common word or lingo. In fact, it was insulting. It was only after doing a ton of research that I understood what it was, and that there were people like me out there.

I was then told by a therapist I’d be just as unhappy as a boy as I am a girl. So I went back in the closet for another 10 years.

10 adult years of trying to be female enough, trying to see myself again, trying so hard to be something I just wasn’t. In the meantime, I managed to get myself 2 bachelor degrees, one in which was Human Gender & Sexuality studies. I did this because I needed to know I wasn’t broken. That the suffering I endured due to something so small wasn’t for nothing. I needed to understand it culturally, biologically, psychologically, and more, just to be able to say to other people without a shadow of a doubt that I’m a man. I did 3 award winning thesis papers on it, taught classes, and even gave lectures at Cambridge.

Our trans experiences were very different. I am so sorry you went through this, and that it was something you felt was pressured on you. I’m sorry that you thought that this was a cure for unhappiness. I am so happy that you have found the happiness of motherhood, the love your dreams, and your child is blessedly healthy. I’m happy you are healing from a mistake you made, and you felt was necessary for your own growth.

I agree that people who are considering it need to understand that the changes your body will have are more or less permanent. So you really need to know for sure before you start. That’s the part I’m concerned with.

I have been happily transitioned for 3 years after coming out over a decade ago. I’ve met the woman of my dreams, and we are getting married very soon. I can take pictures now without grieving, my confidence has improved, and I’m finally seeing myself. What’s more, I haven’t considered committing suicide or have locked myself inside due to my body. I have hair where I want to see hair, a voice that matches my internal voice, facial hair, and even inherited my father’s male patterned baldness. I would never ever go back.

The original post is an amazing cautionary tale about transitioning before you know it’s what you need.

But as a trans man who has found himself, I’m never going to tell other closeted people not to consider the option. But I want you to do it safely. I want you to do the research; understand the changes you’ll have, that they’re irreversible, consider your desire to change to be the product of anxiety, depression, or rejection. Change in other ways first— exercise more, eat better, check for behavioral issues or trauma issues, and really rule out anything that can cause you to make a decision you might one day regret.

OP, I’m proud of you for what you’ve accomplished, and I wish you all the happiness in the world on your own journey.

hey everyone. Hope you’re doing well, though I question that if you’re still active on tumblr.

just wanted to log back in to say that I am detransitioned, married, and 38 weeks pregnant. I am very grateful for my fertility and the healthy pregnancy I have had. Due to my elective double mastectomy in 2018, I will never be able to experience breastfeeding. Yes I was warned about this, but I was so deeply deluded about my gender that it didn’t matter to me. Life was about fulfilling my fantasy, not about my future family, which I knew, deep down, I would need to face at some point.

i decided to stop taking synthetic testosterone in May of 2020, met the love of my life, married him in December 2021 and found out that despite my efforts to run away from my femaleness, my body graciously allowed me to conceive a child 10 days later. Even more graciously, it allowed me to have an easy pregnancy and a thriving baby.

All I will say is this is way better. Way better than what I was doing, or whatever the fuck I was planning on doing with my life.

one more thing, and i risk offending people with this, if you are thinking about transitioning, don’t. You don’t need to. Don’t even do step one. Don’t change your pronouns or your name. But above all, do not try to change your body. You will not succeed. Maybe I’m too late in warning whoever is reading this. But on the odd chance that I’m not, and you’re a young and insecure person trying to figure out what to do in order to not be miserable, transition isn’t it. Please try to resist the urge to call me a bigot or scoff or dismiss my mistakes as meaningless. Yes, they are my mistakes, but I wouldn’t have made them if it wasn’t for this website and the hours I spend on it. I believe that 100%. Wait. Just wait. I see you and I know you’re in pain. Perhaps an amount that you never thought would come with simply existing. There is a light at the end of this dark tunnel.

Don’t transition. Turn around NOW while you still can.

[genderkoolaid]

Hi hi hi I'm here to share one of my personal transandrophobia experiences that really really bothers me.

So when I came out to my mom I was IDing as just nonbinary instead of as a nonbinary trans man, and my mom kinda latched onto me being nonbinary as a way for her to like, deny my transness? Because if I'm nonbinary then she can convince herself that I'm just a quirky woman. But if she acknowledges the trans man part then she has to accept the fact that I am not, and will never be, a cis woman.

So her whole thing is that she will not use my correct name and pronouns, and she will NOT stop referring to me as a woman. When I first came out she pretended to try and use my name and pronouns but you could very much tell that it was just so she didn't seem transphobic. But now she doesn't even do that. And every time I'm with her she has to try and pull some "womanly comradery" shit. I'll complain about something midly annoying that my boyfriend did or something and she'll say shit like "Well you know how men are!" And I'm supposed to be like "Haha yes men are soooo inferior and we are better because we are women" but it just makes me suuuuuper fucking uncomfortable lol.

And I knew she was going to be like this, I grew up hearing how much prettier Chaz Bono was before he transitioned, but it's still just so annoying. She is so self centered and she thinks she has to make everything about her. And I just don't know how to tell her that I'm not gonna force myself to be a woman just to make her feel more comfortable! It's like when I was presenting really femme in high school she kinda got a glimpse into the world where I was her perfect pretty little daughter and now I'm an icky hairy man thing and she thinks she "lost" the girl I could've been.

Her whole attempt at womanly connection just makes me want to talk to her less and less. She's pushing me away and she doesn't even know it. And that's the thing about transphobia, it's not always loud and violent and obvious. Sometimes it's a mother who can't let go of the daughter she never had while her son quietly lives his life without her.

Anyway I want to punctuate this kinda sad tale with a picture of my cats to make it more palatable because I know you've been getting a lot of these and they must be very hard to read sometimes! So here is a little pallete cleanser:

Thank you for sharing your experience (and your cats).

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

PART 1 🌸 PART 2

Namjoon Werewolf Au!! 

Pack Head Alpha Namjoon and mate OC!

Arranged marriage sort of?

Pack dynamics / strangers to lovers. 

Part 3

“You did not think to tell him no? To demand that you had every right to stay there?” Her mother in law looked disappointed ,  eyes trained on her as Jiah carefully pulled the blouse of the tunic down over her tummy, frowning when she realized that it didn’t do a thing for her figure.

She felt self conscious, the grey cotton of the tunic making her feel drab and lifeless. Why did she always choose clothes in colors like this? Why did none of them fit her right? Why did she never make an effort to look at least a little good. Her hair was limp, a mousy brown and while it was thick, it had no luster… Why didn’t she use one of the hundred powdered mixtures the village healer liked to give the younger women?

“Jiah, are you listening to me?” Namjoon’s mother said sharply and Jiah jumped a bit, guilty.

“I didn’t want to be a bother..”  She said nervously, not sure how to handle her mother in law. On the one hand she seemed to be understanding of her many hang ups, but she also looked impatient and upset, anytime Jiah failed to stand up for herself.

Lady Kim drew herself up to her impressive height and Jiah cowered. She’d hung around enough pack bonfires to recognize that stance and that gaze. The woman was about to give her a piece of her mind.

Sure enough, her voice thundered when she addressed her.

“If you keep viewing yourself as a bother, I’m not sure how others will begin seeing you as anything else. You’re the head alpha’s mate. Your place is by his side, helping him with the crown on his head. It’s not a choice. Your duties are not mine and I am tired of doing them for you.” She snapped.

It stung. Guilt churned and Jiah could feel the beginnings of one of her episodes. The ones that always left her shaking and breathless. Much to her surprise, Lady Kim’s gaze softened at that and the next second she was being drawn into a warm embrace.

“Good lord child, why are you so terrified? Has my family not been kind enough to take away this stark terror out of your veins?” She sighed deeply. “You must not let your fears dictate your life. I want you to live your life, pleasing the person you’re bound to .”

Jiah felt her shoulders sag. Please the person she was bound to.  Of course. Namjoon. It all came down to the alpha wolf. And how was she supposed to please him, if he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her?

“Yourself.” Lady Kim’s voice, laced with amusement made her jump.

Jiah frowned, pulling back to look at the older woman in confusion.

“You’re bound only to yourself , Jiah. You need to please yourself. To do and be the person you want to be. And then everything else will fall into place.”

Jiah watched as the woman went back to the door, calling for and directing a few more workers as they finished setting up the outer courtyard of her living quarters. Still a little chilled, she grabbed a thick coat from the small cupboard by the door, draping it over herself and tying it together with the sash. She moved quickly to the door, watching her mother in law talk to the workers, looking them straight in the eye , firm and clear in her instructions.

It was fascinating.

Lady Kim’s stance fairly vibrated with power and her voice brooked no disobedience. People looked at her and listened. They saw someone who knew what she was talking about and many a time, Jiah had felt it herself, the comfort of someone reliable. Someone who wished no ill on anyone.

Namjoon’s mother had lost her husband at a young age. Namjoon had scarcely been a babe of two when it had happened and the entire pack had expected the young wolf to lose his birthright as the heir. It was unheard of for a mate to take over the head alpha’s duties but Lady Kim had risen to the occasion with an elegance that had stunned everyone. The woman had met pack leaders and settled disputes, had negotiated boundary conflicts and made elaborate plans for new buildings , all while carrying around a babe that was still fed at her breast.

What was more, she had defended her position against the men who had wanted to usurp it. Mnhyuk and Jaejoon were two of her husband’s cousins, eager to sink their fangs into the woman to mate her, just to be able to get their hands on the pack. They were terrible men , even worse wolves. Their ideas on how the pack ought to be run dripping with archaic ideals and oppression of women.

But Lady Kim had humiliated them, told the whole pack in no uncertain terms that the next pack alpha would be Kim Namjoon. Her son would be raised to rule the pack with kindness and understanding and she would make sure of it.

The tales were told with hushed tones of disbelief and admiration and Jiah had listened to them with hunger and aching. Had felt such a huge surge of affection for the matron , had wanted to hug her and tell her she had done a great job.

And standing here as her daughter in law, she realized that she would be a fool not to listen to her. Not to learn from her. Especially when it was obvious that in the entire pack, the only one who didn’t seem to hold Kim Namjoon on a pedestal, was ironically his own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ They’re going to challenge you again. I can feel it.” Taehyung said gruffly, dropping the bundle of scrolls on the table and Namjoon flinched, head throbbing.

“That bad?” He asked hesitantly and Taehyung nodded.

“They want you to re-negotiate that treaty about courtesans owning property. Think it would make them quit the profession… if you let them own stuff” Seokjin said quietly and Namjoon bristled.

“They are no different from any of us. They work for their pay too. Why shouldn’t they be allowed to do what they wish with money that they’ve earned?” He demanded angrily.

“You’re a good man Namjoon. A fair one. And you’re striving to build a pack that treats all it members as equals . Obviously people who thrive on abusing their power aren’t going to like that. Especially Minhyuk and Jaejoon’s pups. Those two are terrible.”

“You should accept their challenge and just rip their throats out someday.” Taehyung said firmly AND Namjoon gave him a glare.

“I’m not going to shed blood without cause, Taehyung. Don’t suggest that. Even in passing.” He said firmly and the younger beta bowed politely in apology.

“Where is Jiah?” Seokjin asked casually.

Namjoon glanced at him, brows raised.

“Since when are you so familiar with my mate, hyung?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“She used to come sit with me, when I watched over the herds on the outer pastures. Sweet little thing really. Very funny too.”

That made Namjoon pause.

“Funny?” He asked, completely confused.

“Witty. She would make these clever little riddles and jokes that would always leave me in stitches. We made a game of it. I would give her one of my funny jokes and she would give me a riddle. Is she feeling better now?”

Namjoon who was still kind of struck dumb by the idea of his cowering, reticent mate doing something as…. Normal and friendly as laughing and being witty….. could only stare at Seokjin in confusion.

“I…. Yes. She’s well. We’re expecting a pup.” He said softly.

Both Taehyung and Seokjin went still.

“What?!!! Why didn’t you say that first?!!” Taehyung exclaimed, offended.

“It’s not that important…” Namjoon waved it off, reaching for the scrolls , “ what about the treaties, then? You did tell Jungkook we aren’t changing anything right?”  

Seokjin scoffed.

“ Only you would say that these treaties are more important than your own pup.” He snapped.

Namjoon sighed a bit at that.

“I don’t mean that. I’m just saying, what she needs now is to rest and take care of herself and the baby. I’m not what she needs . I’ve arranged for her to stay in some private quarters with the other women.”

Seokjin sighed deeply. After years of being one of Namjoon’s trusted friends, he could feel his heart ache for the younger and all that he hid from the people around him. He reached out and gently placed a palm on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“ Namjoon, you don’t have to do all of this by yourself. Tae and I , we can take over duties a couple of days a week… You can relax… Maybe spend some time with your new wife….”

“She hates me.” Namjoon said softly. “ I spent a whole month trying to talk to her, all she did was tremble and shake. Even when we…” Namjoon exhaled sharply, “ Even in bed , she made me feel like I was some kind of…. Predator.”

Taehyung bit his lips, looking worried.

“You’re not… You’re not going to break the bond are you?” He asked nervously.

Namjoon sighed.

“I’m not. I may have considered it, before . But now… She’s with pup. I can’t do that to her. I don’t want to either.”

“Why did you pick her?”

Namjoon stayed quiet.

“Because you wanted a wife who wouldn’t ask or demand or complain.” Taehyung said distastefully.

“That’s not… You make it sound so terrible. I’m supposed to be taking over pack duties, supposed to renegotiate every single treaty we’ve drawn in the past twenty years, not to mention get the entire pack ready for the winter…. Of course I wanted a wife who would adjust. Have you seen the omegas in our clan? The ones I could court ? They want to leave on trips… They want to visit the neighbouring packs…. They want me to arrange festivities and feasts for every damn thing…. You think I can marry someone like that??” Namjoon snapped angrily. “none of them understand a damn thing about helping me out. They’re shallow and vain. Jiah… I chose her because she didn’t seem like one of them. She seemed like she could understand what it means to be my wife. But I was wrong. I thought she understood my responsibilities and was giving me my space…. Turns out she just thinks I’m some kind of monster she needs to run and hide from.”

Seokjin reached out, patting his back soothingly.

“Namjoon I understand… It’s been hard on you, and you’ve been doing all of it by yourself. Its bound to take a toll. And that’s why I think you should take a few days off, a week. Give us all the instructions. We’ll carry it all out. You can relax.”

“That’s exactly what my uncles want. For me to slack off. They’ll summon the council and want to challenge me again. I can’t afford it. “ Namjoon shook his head.” Not until the babe is born and my position as pack alpha is solidified. I can’t let them use this against me.”

Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged looks.

“Joon-ah….”

Namjoon gave both of them a tired smile.

“I’ll be fine hyung. It’s going to be okay.”  He said reassuringly. “ The council’s meeting tomorrow right? I’ll try to go over these tonight.”

“Its already past sundown.” Taehyung said worriedly.

“Then I better ask the maids to keep enough oil for the lamp to last.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon blinked, staring at her like she was out of her mind and Jiah flinched. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. But the sight of him made something curl in the pit of her stomach. He looked exhausted. Like he had been up all night. She wondered if perhaps she ought to retreat. Go back to the private quarters he’d arranged for her.

No. No , you will not chicken out of this.

“ You have a council meeting, this evening. Could I come with you?.” She said softly, watching his face carefully. She tried to read his emotions, tried to look for traces of irritation or anger but all she found was a sort of hopeless resignment. Like he had stopped trying to fight whatever was bringing him down.

“Come with me….?? ” Namjoon stared at her like he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about.

She inhaled sharply.

“Your mother told me I could go. As your mate, I’m allowed to sit in on council meetings. She told me it’s a new provision. That you were the one who had it written in. So perhaps, you should… let me come with you.”

“My mother-“ He paused, sighing. “ You don’t have to do everything my mother asks you to.”

She blinked, the words throwing her off. The truth was, she had been the one, tailing the older woman all day, trying to see what she did and how she did it. Lady Kim had merely offered to help her do her duties. She had mentioned in passing, that for centuries , mates hadn’t been granted many rights of their own. Namjoon had spent the past couple of years making a lot of amendments to pack laws and the council hadn’t taken to kindly to all of them.

“ Of course. I just thought that, as I am your mate , perhaps I should accompany you. ” It was a miracle, the way her voice came out, steady . Not at all betraying the nervousness coursing through her veins.

“Jiah…. I’m not sure.” His voice dripped with hesitation and she flinched. Oh, well, no one could blame her for not trying.

“If you don’t want me there, that’s fine.” She said quickly.” I’ll go…”

She turned around, feeling her face burn red as she quickly descended the stairs to the courtyard.

“Jiah wait!!” His voice made her still.

She turned around swiftly.

“I didn’t mean to imply that I did not want you there. I just….Council meetings aren’t short. They tend to go on for hours. Will you be alright?” He asked gently, gaze dropping surreptitiously to her middle.  

It took her a minute to understand what he was even talking about.

“I… Oh.” She quickly pressed her palms to her stomach, confused. “ I mean… I may have to be excused a couple of times to relieve myself. I’ve been doing that way more often than usual.” She laughed.

Namjoon’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile and she flushed. Surely, her stern mate didn’t want to hear about her body functions? What was she even doing…

“But, yes. I wouldn’t mind sitting with you. Truly.” She said quickly.

Namjoon nodded.

“Well, then. You can come with me. It’s an hour before sundown… I’ll come fetch you myself.”

“Yes , alpha.” She said brightly, curtsying lightly and immediately feeling like a fool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They’re called red feathers …” The healer, a middle aged woman called Selma,  opened a small earthenware jar to show her the contents. Jiah peered into the jar, catching sight of a bundle of dried flowers and roots.

“These can help me…?” She asked dubiously and Selma gave a quiet chuckle.

“They help you sleep better and also help you relax. They’re good for you. You won’t feel this anxious if you take them regularly.” She said calmly.

“Oh… alright.” Jiah nodded, glancing carefully at her mother in law who was standing elsewhere, looking through an assortment of salves and tinctures. “ Can I…. is this safe for Namjoon?”

Lady Kim stilled, turning around to glance at her sharply and Jiah stiffened. God, her impulsive mouth. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. Just the whole , helps sleep better , had immediately reminded her of how tired Namjoon had looked.

“I’ve already tried to get him to drink some of it. He refuses.” Lady Kim said tiredly. “ He feels that it may affect his mental faculties”

“Auntie Selma?” A high, soft voice rang through the hut and Jiah glanced up. She went still, catching sight of Jisoo, dressed in red velvet and all of her ornate jewelry.

“Ah… Jisoo…you’re back.” Selma said cheerfully. “ How can I help you child?”

Jisoo stared at her, eyes steady and unreadable.

“I need some wild carrot seeds and ginger roots.” She said softly and Lady Kim scoffed.

“I hope the man you’re taking into your bed is not who I think it is , Jisoo.” She growled. The younger woman merely bowed.

“I’m but a courtesan, my lady. I go where I am asked to.” She said softly.

Lady Kim sighed.

“Then perhaps you should go back home. Now.” She said sharply and jisoo flushed and ugly red.

“Your son wants me to visit him for tea , this evening. I was hoping to meet my lovely lady there…but I hear you no longer stay in his hut.” Jisoo turned to her, tone dripping with acid and Jiah swallowed nervously.

“I… I’m…” She couldn’t quite talk, much less think of something to say.

“Because she is with child.” Lady Kim said sharply, a hint of triumph in her tone. “ Namjoon’s child.”

Jisoo had gone paper white, her face pale and bloodless.

“What?” She whispered.

“It’s true. She carries my son’s heir. You know what that means, Jisoo. It means they are bound, for life. I like you. I respect your courage and admire your talents. You are beautiful and you deserve a mate of your own. Do not pursue my son.” Lady Kim said firmly.

Jisoo didn’t respond for a few seconds.  

And then she bowed again .

“Like I said, my lady. I only go where I am called.” She said quietly.

She turned on her heels, stalking away and Jiah could only stare after her, heart pounding a bit at what had just happened. She wasn’t sure why she felt so much disquiet. She’d never had high hopes of fidelity from Namjoon. The entire village knew that Jisoo had been his paramour. But now that she had seen how dismissive the younger girl was of her, she felt the unaccountable urge to fight back. To stake her claim.

“You look pretty upset. Don’t let her bother you. Namjoon will not break his vows.” Lady Kim said quietly and Jiah gave her a soft smile, although her heart still raced. She remembered how pretty the girl had looked in all her brocades and velvets. She stared down at her own murky yellow dress. She couldn’t go to the council meeting, dressed worse than a courtesan. Couldn’t embarrass Namjoon like that.

“ My Lady….” She turned to her mother in law. The older woman hummed, returning to examining the shelves.

“What is it, child?”

“Can we stop at the seamstress’ hut on our way back?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever Namjoon had been expecting, as he knocked on his wife’s private quarters, it hadn’t been this.

He stared , or to be more accurate, gaped at his wife, completely thrown by her appearance.

She looked…. Cheerful.

That was the only word he could think of, taking in the warm yellow and green fabric of her gown, all with an abundance of ribbons and lace. She had also clearly made some effort to tame her hair.

Not a very successfully attempt, considering the dozen strands sticking out of her bun and curling over her bare neck and shoulders …..but an attempt nonetheless.

Which reminded him.

Why was her neck bare?

“I…. have you forgotten… part of your dress…?” He asked awkwardly, gaze trained on the pale, blemish less expanse of skin in front of him. Too much of it was on display he felt.

“Oh?” Jiah twirled about for a second, glancing at herself. “ Not at all, my alpha. This is how it is.”

Namjoon blinked.

“Right… the night is getting colder. Perhaps a shawl?” He suggested tactfully.

Jiah frowned, sticking a hand out of the door as though to the gauge the night air.

“Really? Feels quite warm to me.” She said thoughtfully.  

“It may be cold for the baby.” He said quickly and that made her pause. She glanced back down at her tummy and he wondered what she expected to see, every time she did that.

“Perhaps you’re right alpha….let me be back.” She floated back into the hut and he sighed in relief when she reappeared with a white fleece shawl over her shoulders.

“Shall we go ?” She asked quietly and he hesitated before slowly offering her his arm. She gripped it lightly, and they began the short walk to the main village square where the council usually convened.

“You… You’re better adjusted to this place now?” He asked carefully, trying to find the girl he had taken to his bed. The terrified, nervous , trembling young girl.

Jiah didn’t respond at once.

“I… I’ve been drinking some of Selma’s potions. They help.” She said quietly and he frowned.

“Potions? Potions for what?”

“They help with my nerves. I get scared easily…imagine things ….” She trailed off nervously.” I’m very anxious by nature and it gets worse in a new place. With new people.”

Namjoon considered that carefully. That made sense. Perhaps, that was why she had been so odd.

“The potions help?” He asked carefully and she nodded.

“Yes…that and your mother.”

“My mother?”

“She’s very kind to me.”

Namjoon laughed a bit at that. In all the years he has had people talking to him about his mother, the word ‘kind ‘ had never come up.

“ I’m being honest….she has helped me adapt to this place. To see how things are run. I… I don’t want to be a bother. I want to pull my weight. In the pack. To help in any way I can…”

Namjoon felt a sudden unaccountable fondness bloom in his chest at the innocent words.

“ That’s very virtuous of you.” He said seriously and she flushed.

They didn’t say anything else, continuing the rest of the path in companionable silence Namjoon spotted the seven council members gathered around a blazing fire and lightly stepped closer to her.

“You can stay close to me. You don’t have to answer them.  If they try to draw you into any controversial topic, just ignore them. I’ll handle it.” He said quickly.

Jiah gave him a wide eyed, nervous look but nodded quickly, fingers moving from his forearm to his palm , linking with his own and gripping tight.

“I’m here. You’re not alone.” She said quickly and it was ridiculous, how the words actually helped him relax just a little.

Taking a deep breath, he led her on to the meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : i thinks its about time i accepted that this is a full blown fic and not just a drabble. fuck my life. 

Note : Red feathers are actually herbal medicines used as anti depressants. So this is just werewolf au equivalent of therapy. 

[earnestly-endlessly]

hey!! Your fic recommendations are always elite–I was wondering if you had any kid fics, thank you <3

Hi anon. I have plenty of kid fics for you. Since you didn't quite specify what kind of kid fic you wanted I decided to divide it into fics where Charles and Erik are kids or get deaged and fics that involve kids. This is kind of a long list so I hope that there are plenty of new fics for you to read.

Cherik Kid Fic

--They are kids or get deaged--

Conspiracy of Kisses - Alaceron

Summary: Seven-year-old Erik needs to keep his telepathic best friend Charles from finding out that he wants to kiss him. But that's okay, because he has a plan - he'll put on a tinfoil hat.

Chasing After You - Alaceron

Summary: Charles isn't very good at tag. Erik helps

We’ll be the sum - afrocurl, ninemoons42

Summary: In between bouts of blanket burrito-ing and vegging out on movies, Charles and Erik figure out how they currently feel about each other.

Of course, they're schoolboys and they're on a sleepover and also Edie dotes on them both excessively, so things work out just fine.

Growing pains - ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Valentine’s day – ikeracity

Summary: Kid fic! Erik waits impatiently all day at school to give Charles a card for Valentine's Day. Maybe Charles has something for him too...?

Now You Know You Know it Now – luninosity

Summary: Erik’s not sure why he keeps glancing at the other boy. Not as if Erik likes other kids, or other people in general, for that matter. But still—he finds himself looking. Again.

This Family Comes with Batteries - Fishwrites, lynneh

Summary: An orphaned Charles Xavier goes to live with his Godfather: Tony Stark. This story is a tale of what would have happened to the events of MCU, if Tony was raising a six year old telepath in Stark Tower. There is also the matter of Charles' robot AI manny/bodyguard/tutor/only-friend, David.

You’re Not Doing This Alone – flightinflame, Lynds

Summary: What's meant to be a simple recruitment mission leads to both Erik and Charles being de-aged back to thirteen years old. Terrified and out of their depth, the boys try to hide their situation and help each other until they can work out what is going on.

Charles Xavier, A Retelling – Extra_fried_noodles

Summary: An attempt to reverse his paralysis goes wrong, and Charles is de-aged into a 2 year old toddler. While Hank scrambles to fix the situation, the whole gang is here to help. Through a mix of selective memory, they watch Charles relive his childhood, revealing some deeply hidden and painful truths.

Protective Instinct – Groovyhornbill

Summary: Charles and Erik were testing Cerebro’s new prototype when things went very wrong.

Divergence – Lynds

Summary: Universes and timelines collide, dropping two younger versions of Charles Xavier into the midst of the hunt for Sebastian Shaw. Now the newly formed X-men have to deal with a strangely quiet and self-reliant six year old, and a sixteen year old covered in bruises.

Erik, in particular, has to accept that the man he loves hasn't had the kind, happy upbringing he wished for him. But these children are here now, and Erik's not going to let anyone hurt them this time.

--Where they have kids--

Sink or Swim – endingthemes

Summary: Erik is a struggling single dad of three kids with a burning hatred for Sebastian Shaw, the man who wronged him years ago. He’s tried to move on with his life, but a run-in with Shaw’s rude, spoiled omega, Charles, drags up old anger. When Charles ends up in the hospital after an accident, Erik goes to confront him only to find that Charles has amnesia. In the confusion, Charles mistakenly assumes that Erik is his mate.

Erik knows he should clear up the misunderstanding, but how can he pass up this perfect chance for a little revenge?

(An Overboard AU)

Rumor Has It - blueink3

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Words and Pictures – pocky_slash

Summary: When Lorna's powers manifest early, Charles Xavier's mutant picture books are the perfect teaching tool. Erik just hadn't expected the author to be so young. Or attractive. Or available.

Write this number down (you can call it anytime) – pocky_slash

Summary: When Erik upsets his children, they have a habit of running away from home--and straight to Charles' school for cookies and consolation. Charles doesn't mind the visitors, but as they appear more and more frequently, he realizes that sooner or later, he and Erik are going to have to talk about what happened on the beach and what it means for their future and the future of Erik's children.

Dress Your Family in Plaid and Skinny Jeans – cygnaut

Summary: Erik and Charles meet at the mutant playgroup/parenting support circle and they instantly hit it off. And so do their kids, Lorna and David.

Not What I was Expecting (So Much Better) – lazulisong

Summary: Erik, the single father, hires Charles, the grad student with the slightly shady past, to be his manny.

Heli Cases – Black_Betty

Summary: "Heli Cases" is a program on PBS whose aim is to educate on the rapidly increasing occurrence of genetic mutation in the general populous by breaking the complex science down into palatable, easy to digest pieces.

It is also the only thing that helps Erik get his fussy daughter to fall asleep.

(Featuring Dadneto, baby Lorna and the struggles of single fatherhood, and Charles as the host of a late night show about genetics.)

Doing Something for Yourself – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik is a hard working engineer and single dad, Charles runs a local Community Center where Wanda and Pietro spend their time after school. Erik accidentally makes Charles' acquaintance one Wednesday evening when he's running late from work. Erik has no idea if he stands a chance with his new acquaintance, but that isn't going to keep him from falling for the guy.

A Good Dad – listerinezero

Summary: Ten years later, Magneto has left the Brotherhood and Raven asks Charles to help her find him. Charles discovers that Erik is the single father of five year old twins Wanda and Pietro, and he is doing everything he can to keep them safe from his former enemies.

Take a Chance (On Me) – Ook

Summary: In which Charles, terrorised by his abusive ex, takes his young son to a small town in America, where they both settle down and make friends with their neighbours. Particularly the town mechanic, Erik, and his foster son, Alex. Requester stated they wanted to "drown in H/C. "

Can’t Buy Me Love – niniblack

Summary: Erik's a single dad struggling to make it work and nab the promotion he's been waiting for. The last thing he needs is to get involved with politician and notorious playboy Charles Xavier.

(The Maid in Manhattan pastiche that no one asked for.)

Ohana – royal_chandler

Summary: Erik's children are absolute hellions. If by hellions, one means children who are incredibly protective of their new family unit and won't let a few household mishaps get in the way of keeping it together.

One Second and a Million Miles – magneto

Summary: Between being a parent to the best baby in the history of man-kind and co-running a Mutant Center in Hell's Kitchen, Erik Lehnsherr has his hands pretty full. Too full, certainly for romance; something that has never really been on his radar to begin with.

All that changes, however, when he meets Dr. Charles Xavier. Handsome, intelligent, capable, kind, an Omega level telepath, and one of the best pediatricians in the state, he's everything Erik didn't know he was looking for. But he's also Lorna's pediatrician which means, of course, he's off-limits. Except how is Erik supposed to try and forget his crush when he and Charles keep running into each other as if fate is trying to tell them something? When, as Charles says, they seem to want the same thing?

Her Only Mutations Were Her Blue Eyes and Her Auburn Hair – Pookaseraph

Summary: While sneaking back out of Russia, Erik and Charles stumble across Anya, Erik's presumed dead daughter, and it changes quite a few little things along the way. Fluffy, self-indulgent, fix-it.

Despicably Yours – Cesare, veryorangecat

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr, AKA Magneto, is a supervillain without equal... except maybe one: Charles Xavier, AKA Professor X, AKA Erik's next door neighbor. When their competition heats up, Erik decides the only way to get ahead is to adopt four mutant orphans to infiltrate Charles's mansion.

Things don't go as planned.

The Wrong Impression – Rosawyn

Summary: Charles is trying to balance the responsibilities of his career with his responsibilities as a single father to a tiny baby. It's not something he ever thought he'd have to do, and it's not as easy as those women on the internet make it look! He does't have much of a social life (unless talking to his sister on the phone and attending a parents' class where he's the only guy count), and he doesn't even have time to think of dating. He's just trying to keep his job - and keep his son fed and healthy.

Marrying a Mob – Ook

Summary: Charles is a teacher at a very exclusive school. When armed men burst in on the trail of two children, of course he stands up to them and gets hurt. The children are Erik Lehnsherr's children (of course); a "prominent businessman" or, less politely, "mobster".

Erik is grateful to Charles for saving his children's lives at the cost of his kneecap. So very grateful.

Naturally he tries to reward Charles for his actions. Equally naturally, Charles will be having none of that.

Azazel finds the whole thing unspeakably hilarious. Naturally.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part II

[ previous ] 

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 10.2k

Warnings: specific character attributes (not appearance, mentioned favorite color, movie, etc.), oral, rough sex, multiple orgasms, Erwin is kind of annoying, semi-exhibitionism, too much testosterone  A/N: And, here we go again. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part and told me about it. This one’s for y’all~

Mike immediately notices when you start to avoid him. You had already been doing it, but now it's to the point of ducking into buildings you have no business being in and walking a little too briskly when you catch sight of him somewhere on campus. You also won't get anywhere near the Pi Kappa Alpha house.

 And, he gets it. He fucked up that night. Or, he didn't fuck up, but he opened up. Too much. Showed that he was willing to be vulnerable, and you obviously had not liked that. 

 The first week of watching you duck and cover from afar isn't so bad. He's a little bummed, yeah, but he figures you'll come around, if not for him then at least for his dick. 

 But, one week turns to two, and Mike gets irritated, a little angry even. Because it's not like he did anything wrong. It's not like you haven't wanted it every time. 

 He doesn't know your class schedule exactly, but he does know when you get out of your 11 AM and have to cross the courtyard to your dorm. It's where Mike caught you last time when he was playing frisbee with Nile, and it's where he catches you now. 

 Your speed walking is no match for his normal stride, and he easily closes the distance between you two and grabs your wrist to tug you toward a more private area by the library. 

 "What the fu—what are you doing?" You spit, pulling yourself free. 

 "What are you doing?"

 "Trying to get to my fucking room to nap! Is that okay?" 

 Mike ignores it, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, then asks, "Why are you avoiding me?" 

 Scoffing, you mumble an unconvincing, "I haven't been avoiding you."

 "Bullshit."

 "I've just been busy, okay? Midterms are coming up, and I'm falling behind…" He can tell you're lying by the way you can't meet his eyes. "I need to focus."

 "Am I that big of a distraction?" 

 You don't miss a beat—"Yes," and your eyes widen at your own answer like you're surprised by it. 

 Mike raises his eyebrows, taken off guard, and you try to cover your tracks. "I mean, like, I don't have time to be fucking frat boys. And, I know you have the pick of the litter, so it's not like you'll go without." 

 He has to bite his tongue, a confession right on the tip of it—I pick you—but knows that's the last thing you want to hear. It's too early for thoughts like that anyway. You're too closed off, and he's too transparent. It's not like anything serious could work out anyway, and even if it could, he shouldn't tie himself down. 

 "I mean, yeah, but—"

 You hold a hand up, take a deep breath. "Look, I'll be honest with you. You seem like an okay guy, but you should find some other girl to do this with. I don't wanna be another notch on your bedpost—"

 "Then, don't be. We can just hang out."

 "Yeah, we tried that at the party and still ended up sleeping together."

 "We can make it a rule then." He's trying too hard, he knows, but he can't help it. "No fucking. I won't come onto you, and you won't come onto me."

 You snort and pick at the hem of your shirt, obviously not buying any of this. "Why do you wanna be friends so bad anyway? Is it the hard-to-get thing? Is it that I'm making it difficult?"

 "Maybe but not entirely."

 Why does he want to be your friend so badly? You haven't given him any real reason to. You can bond over nerd shit here and there, but other than that, you don't have a lot in common. 

 You just seem… Cool. Aloof. Like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything, and Mike never thought he'd find that attractive in a girl, but apparently he does. 

 "Just come over one more time. We can watch something again or—"

 "I'm not going into your room again!"

 "You don't have to," Mike says, speaking with his hands to emphasize his point. "We can stay in the living room. Totally public. Any of the guys could walk in."

 "Has that ever stopped any of you before?"

 Not a hundred percent of the time. Mike has definitely seen more of Erwin and Gelgar than he'd like, but he can tell a little white lie.

 "Yes." 

 You stare up at him, a skeptical look on your face, and then, "I'll see if I can pencil you in." 

 "Fuck yeah, I promise I'll show you a good time without, like, showing you a good time." 

 "Yeah, whatever." 

 You're unimpressed, turn to walk away, but Mike is feeling a little too triumphant, a little too bold, and catches you before you can get too far. 

 He premises, "Just to get it out of my system," then bends down and kisses you. Palms covering your cheeks, fingers curling around the back of your head kisses you. He uses both of his thumbs, just under your mouth, to part your lips so that he can slide his tongue past them, and you push at his chest half-heartedly, no real force to it as you let him lick into your mouth. 

 The first whimper that escapes you is what makes you break away, your hands stronger against him to shove him back, and Mike smirks when you glare at him. 

 "You're on thin fucking ice, Zacharias. Thin ice."

 "I'll keep it in mind."

 With that, you leave the little alcove the two of you were in, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Mike just watches the sway of your hips and licks his lips. 

 *

 You come over on a Saturday afternoon. Mike can tell you've tried to make yourself look not cute in loose, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but it doesn't work. Mike still smiles, and you still roll your eyes at him before kicking your shoes off by the door. 

 "Okay, so what are we doing?" You ask, sitting two cushions away from him on the couch. 

 "I brought my Switch in here, so we have that…"

 "Oh, do you have the SNES games downloaded?" 

 "Dumb question. Of course I do."

 "Rude. Open that shit up."

 He does, and you demand to play Donkey Kong, which Mike has no problem with, but, "A please would be nice."

 You click your tongue, holding your hand out for the second tiny controller and tell him, "You don't get to hear me beg anymore."

 Mike feels his shorts tighten, but all he does is kick a foot over his thigh and warn you, "Best not test my self-control like that."

 "Is that a threat?" You laugh, toggling down to 'Two Player' on the screen and clicking it. 

 "Not a threat." He bobs his head to the theme music. "Just lettin’ you know."

 You get as far as Mine Cart Carnage together, but Mike ends up getting tossed from the cart, leaving you to take over as Diddy. He watches the way you move with your character, sitting up straighter, raising the controller to your chest, swaying one way then the next as if your body is tied directly to the game. 

 Erwin walks in a little while later when you're focused on Stop & Go Station. He sits down in a plush chair, phone in his hand that he ignores in favor of asking, "What are you guys doing out here? Shouldn't you be in Mike's room?"

 Mike glances at him, gives him a look and shakes his head, but you're much less subtle when you snap, "Can it, Smith," eyes never leaving the screen. 

 "Don't count on that," Mike snorts. "I think it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than four seconds." 

 "Wooow," Erwin drawls, thick eyebrows high in offense. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, and now you're just talking shit right in front of me."

 "For some reason, I get the feeling your ego can't get bruised that easily," you muse out loud. 

 "I'll have you know I can be very sensitive," Erwin informs you matter-of-factly. "I have a heart. I have feelings. And, I've been told on multiple occasions that I'm more considerate than most men, so there."

 You laugh, a silly sound that gets stuck in your throat. "Oh, really? And how many of those women—'cause that's what they are, I'm sure—were left behind after they built you up like that, hm?"

 Biting both of his lips, Erwin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I plead the fifth on that one."

 "Uh huh, that's what I thought."

 While you're fixated on the screen, Mike glances over at his friend, sees blue eyes shining as Erwin stares at you, a tell-tale smirk on his face. He's amused by you. Interested, even. 

 You stay for about an hour longer before going back to the dorms. As soon as the front door shuts, Mike swivels around and points a finger at Erwin, uttering a low, "Don't you dare," that makes the blond chuckle. 

 "Wouldn't dream of it."

 *

 You mostly hang out on weekends and only in small bursts. Alternating between movies and video games, it's a little hard to speak to one another, but Mike is still able to pry some information out of you and share more about himself. 

 You're majoring in geological and earth sciences while Mike is working toward a degree in environmental science— "Kinda weird we haven't run into each other before." 

 You played basketball for a year in high school before getting annoyed by the other girls. Mike, on the other hand, made some of his best friends on his old soccer team. 

 You had a ferret growing up and now you'll "Never get another pet again 'cause when he died, I died a little with him." (It's the first time Mike has ever seen tears in your eyes, but you blink them away at record speed). He tells you about the dogs his family has had and how the one at home with his parents now is actually his. (Her name's Scout, and I would take a bullet for her.") 

 Hitch is your best friend even though she irritates the shit out of you, and Mike says something similar about Erwin. "He's a good guy. He's just… Passionate about so many things. He gets obsessive. Drives me insane."

 "Obsessed with that pussyyy," you joke in a deep, stupid voice. 

 Mike snorts, "Perv," and keeps watching the movie that's playing. 

 And, speaking of movies, your favorite Disney film is The Fox and The Hound— "Good taste," while his is Lion King— "Classic." As far as other movies, though, the two of you spend half an hour arguing over which Mel Brooks is the best, end up having to agree to disagree (Young Frankenstein vs. High Anxiety).

 Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is pizza (“What are you, twelve?”). Your favorite animal is the pangolin. They’re all little facts that Mike stores away, and by the end of the semester, he actually feels like he kind of knows you, and somehow, against all odds, you've managed to not hookup through it all. 

 That's not to say it hasn't been hard (that he hasn't been hard). Sometimes you come over in skin tight jeans or crop tops, outfits that accentuate your body in all the right ways, and Mike is pretty sure that you do it on purpose. 

 You're both careful not to drink too much at parties, aware of the likely consequences, but you hang around him enough to gain people's attention—jealous girls watching in disappointment, curious guys sizing you up. 

 Questions inevitably arise. You complain about Hitch pestering you for details that you will not give her, and he tells you how he has to keep brushing off his brothers. 

 "She doesn't, like, know we've had sex—would never fucking leave me alone if she did. But she and all her other little friends are so annoying about it."

 You're on the steps outside of the frat house, jackets zipped up, nursing steaming cups of cocoa you got from the nearby shop. 

 "So, what do you tell them?" Mike asks. 

 You shrug your shoulders. "That we're not fucking. Just friends. They don't believe me, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it, dammit."

 Mike laughs through his nose and takes another drink. "I mean, it's not a lie since we're not fucking and we are friends."

 You make a high pitched noise, doubtful, challenging. "Friends is a strong word."

 "Whatever." 

 He's used to you doing that now, denying him every chance you get even in a joking way. You've never once admitted to any type of feelings out loud, and he isn't sure why, some kind of avoidance behavior, but he won't complain because he knows you're at least a little fond of him. You wouldn't keep spending time with him if you weren't. 

 Deciding to change the subject, Mike prompts, "So, Erwin's party over the break," and you glance at him over your cup with interest. "You're coming, right?" 

 "I don't know. Isn't it at, like, his ranch house in bum fuck nowhere?" 

 "Kinda. It's only about a two hour drive from here, but it's definitely off the beaten path."

 "I'll have to see. Need to spend time with my mom while I can." 

 Understandable. He's looking forward to seeing his own parents (and Scout, of course). 

 The last game of the season is played and won, then finals pass after too many all-nighters and too much Red Bull. Mike actually sighs in relief when he slides into his white Wrangler, all packed up and ready to make the drive back to his house. 

 He sends one text before pulling out onto the main road—Be safe—and hopes he won't have to wait an entire month to see you again. 

*

 Staying with your mom is nice but always slightly depressing. The house is empty with just her in it, less lived in than ever before. You can tell exactly which spots she spends most of her time in—her office to work and the couch in front of the TV to wind down. 

 You sleep in your old bedroom, spend most evenings texting Hitch after your mom goes to bed, but a few conversations with Mike slip in too. He sends you several pictures of Scout—beautiful but always wearing one of those perpetual Boxer frowns—and in return, you send him pictures of the pretty betta your mother has in her office. It's the best you can do. 

 After a week of being in your hometown, you're ready to leave it again. It's not terrible or in a bad part of town. It's just… lacking. You'd never tell your mother this, but you have a feeling she knows. It's probably why she doesn't put up a fight when you tell her you're gonna run off for a couple days to attend Erwin's party. 

 "I promise I'll be back. It's just one night and then the drive back."

 Her tone is very serious when she tells you to stay out of trouble, but then she walks you out to your car and hugs you, watching and waving as you drive away. 

 You text Erwin on the way there to ask if it's okay to arrive early—like a few hours early cause I needed to get out of my house—and he replies enthusiastically.

 Absolutely! Mike and Levi are already here 😃

 You have no idea who this Levi is outside of hearing Erwin mention him a few times, but you very quickly find out when you get to the large but secluded house. You see Erwin's stupid (gorgeous) vintage Mustang parked in the gravel driveway as well as Mike's white Jeep and an unfamiliar, black Prius. 

 All three of them are on the porch occupying outdoor chairs that probably cost more than your fucking dorm expenses, but Mike and Erwin both stand when you make your way up the sidewalk. Staying seated, or really sprawled out with his hands behind his head, is a fairly small man (boy, maybe) with inky hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s dressed much differently than the other two, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, and a striped long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved band tee. 

 “What in the e-boy fuck…” You mutter to yourself, nodding at the blonds and letting Mike take your backpack—not that you really have a choice considering your grip on it is no match for his. 

 “Was the drive okay?” He asks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and making it look incredibly small. 

 “Yeah. Once I hit the backroads I could start going, like, eighty-five, so that shaved some time off.”

 Mike snorts. “You sound like Erwin. Dude’s always speeding.”

 “Don’t fucking start with me. I was in the car with you when you almost hit a pedestrian on a crosswalk.”

 “We don’t talk about that.”

 Everyone follows Erwin inside the house. It’s just as nice as you thought it’d be, sprawling and open with wood floors, plush furniture, and rustic decorations. There are moose antlers mounted in one room and a god damned bear head in another. It makes you roll your eyes, but to say you’re unimpressed would be a flat out lie. 

 “Not everyone is staying the night, but I know you have to, so just pick an upstairs room,” Erwin tells you after the grand tour. “I can take you around on the golf cart once you settle in.”

 You see Mike roll his green eyes and amend, “We can take you around.” 

 “Yeah,” Erwin nods. “That’s what I meant.”

 Levi is making a face up at Erwin, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a little grimace. He hasn’t said more than two words to you since you’ve arrived (“I’m Levi.”), but he doesn’t seem like the chatterbox type, a little more standoffish, and you can’t blame him for that. 

 “Just in case you’re wondering, I’m in the middle room,” Mike tells you with a grin.

 “And why, pray tell, would I be wondering that?”

 He basically sings in his deep voice, “No reason,” then walks back downstairs with Erwin and Levi, leaving you to make yourself comfortable. 

 You take the bedroom at the far end of the hallway out of spite more than anything, but you figure the farther away you can be from Mike the better. After setting your things down and organizing deodorant, perfume, and every day jewelry on the dresser, you join the guys downstairs to find them huddling over the kitchen island talking about plans for the night. 

 “Should we get a keg? It won’t be that many people, but it might be easier to just pour from one,” Erwin thinks out loud. 

 “Don’t bother getting a keg if it’s gonna be the same shitty beer you guys have at Pike parties,” you chime in, hip checking Mike so that he’ll scoot over and allow you join their little meeting. 

 Levi lets out a little laugh, the most expressive you’ve seen him so far, while the other two pout at your criticism. 

 “Why don’t you pick the beer then?” Erwin prompts. “Since you have such refined tastes.” 

 Eyebrows lifting, you laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a smartass in the house tonight.” The blond smirks and dusts off his shoulders, making Mike groan in either annoyance or embarrassment. You can’t be sure which one. 

 “Fuck, is this what it’s always like between you three?” Levi asks, looking between all of you. “Just constant bickering?”

 “More or less.”

 “That seems exhausting.”

 “It is,” you confirm. “‘S’why I can only hang out with them in small doses.”

 “Ouch.”

 “Wounded.”

 “Anyway,” you let your head hang so that all they can see is your shoulders shaking as you giggle, and when you look back up, you make sure that the smile is mostly wiped from your face. “I’m not saying I’m some kind of beer expert, but I at least know that the shit you serve at parties is rancid.”

 “And yet, you always seem to forget,” Mike teases. “I always end up having to finish yours.”

 “You don’t have to. You choose to, you fucking alkie.”

 It’s hard to come to any sort of decision with the non-stop push and pull of the conversation, and eventually Levi just walks away to let the three of you work it out. Erwin orders a keg of Rolling Rock, says something about, “Dad won’t mind me splurging a little since I downsized this whole thing for him,” and you scoff at him. 

 He’s well aware of his privilege, talks about it in an ironic manner that’s both maddening and hilarious— “Father is going to let me take the yacht out this weekend,” and, “Oh, that’s not country club appropriate.” It makes you laugh every fucking time, but it also usually earns him a smack or two. 

 The next few hours are spent gathering party supplies and getting the house ready (as in moving some furniture around and hiding valuables). Erwin leaves to pick up the keg after assuring the vendor on the phone that he can drive to them and pay extra for the short notice. You don’t know how he manages it, but you assume his confidence has a lot to do with it.

 Only about twenty people are supposed to come, “An Erwin Smith exclusive,” Mike jokes with you as you stash a couple of vases in the kitchen cabinets. 

 “Oh, does that mean I’m special?” You play.

 “Absolutely.”

 There’s something churning in your gut as you move around downstairs with Mike and Levi, an omniscient feeling, like you know how the night will end, but you’re going to fight it every step of the way. You’ve made it this long without a slip-up, and you’re determined to make it one more night. 

 Erwin gets back with about three hours to spare. He and Mike disappear to change into what you assume to be their usual douche-y attire, and you and Levi sit alone in the large living room waiting quietly. 

 You’re surprised when he speaks first, stating, “You don’t seem the sorority type.”

 Turning, you try to make sense of it, respond, “Well, I’m not.” You’re almost offended that he’d even consider you were.

 “Then what are you doing hanging around with those frat boy fucks?”

 “Oh, that.” You sigh. “Uhh, my friend made me go to one of their parties, and I just… Made an impression, I guess.”

 “You fucked one of ‘em, didn’t you?” Levi is smirking, so sure of himself that you don’t really see the point in denying it.

 “Yeah.”

 “Rich boy or the giant?”

 You look over at him, defenses rising like they did your first night in the Pi Kappa Alpha house. “The fuck is it to you?”

 Holding his hands up, Levi chuckles, “Alright, alright, forget I asked.”

 You cross your arms over your chest, stare off as you wonder if it’s actually that hard to tell. You figured it would be obvious that you’re more comfortable with Mike than with Erwin, but you have been getting more used to the other brazen blond over the last few months, just like you’ve been getting a little more used to Nile and all the other brothers. You haven’t sucked any of their dicks, though. 

 “How’d you meet Erwin?” You try.

 You’re not surprised when Levi snarks, “The fuck is it to you?” 

 You can’t tell if the two of you are going to leave this ranch house as mortal enemies or as friends, but it’ll definitely be one of them. 

 “‘Cause you don’t seem the type to hang out with them either,” you tell him.

 It's definitely odd. He and Erwin have to go back some time to have been able to stick together through their college years and all of their superficial differences. 

 Levi admires the black polish on his nails then informs you in a bored tone, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but it’s no big deal. Just can’t get rid of him.”

 The corner of his mouth turns upward, so he can’t be too heartbroken over it. You understand that, haven’t quite been able to shake your puppy-dog of a friend since the beginning of the semester, but you’re not as annoyed about it as you pretend to be. 

 “They certainly do get attached,” you hum.

 The two men in question join you once again, looking much more palatable in jeans and v-necks. Erwin has a button-down hanging open and rolled up to his elbows while Mike is wearing a black and white flannel in similar fashion. It’s the most casual they’ve been at a party, and you can’t help but joke, “Wow, look at you two. More human, less lizard people for once.”

 Erwin rolls his eyes while Mike mumbles a Doctor Who reference that makes you suck on the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. 

 He’s got his charm turned on tonight, the kind that appeals to you, which will definitely pose a problem.

 People start arriving at around eight, some you recognize from the college, some you don’t who you assume to be some of Erwin’s older friends. Gelgar taps the keg within minutes of walking in then plays the role of bartender for the next ten minutes as everyone lines up for a drink. There’s liquor and mixers set up on the counter, and you consider just making your usual, but you figure you should have at least a little of the beer since you’re the one who fought for the more expensive brand. 

 When you get your cup, foam nearly overflowing past the rim, you take one sip only to cough it back up when Mike shows off his usual party trick—appearing out of thin air—and asks, “You gonna finish it this time?”

 You splutter as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand then glare up at him. “I’m gonna try, but it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ difficult if you keep making me spit up like a god damn baby.”

 He’s amused, light eyes dancing mischievously, and you know you’re in for a long night. 

 Erwin has a playlist filtering through the house’s sound system, a nice balance of several different genres playing at a bearable volume for the first time. Games start up in the kitchen, rage cage around the island, beer pong at the table, and while you’re content to just wallflower in the corner, Mike drags you into it. 

 “You’re just as bad as Hitch," you complain, but he isn't fazed, just plants you in an open spot at the island and stands right beside you. He's gonna regret doing that; rage cage is one of the only competitive games you're actually good at, but he'll find that out. 

 It's fast-paced, full of screaming and laughing, jumping and shoving. You get to slam your cup into Mike's on several occasions, drawing curses from him every time. 

 "Honestly, it's a little embarrassing," you ridicule with a smile. 

 He downs the small amount of beer in the cup he pulls, adds it to the stack, then challenges, "I'll show you embarrassing. Just wait." 

 You've had maybe two beers altogether, but it still sends a jolt down your spine. 

 The two of you play another couple of rounds, and Mike does seem to catch on a little more, but he eventually bows out and pulls you away with him. 

 More beer. Meandering around the party. It's pretty tame in comparison to all the Pike events you've attended, but the later it gets, the rowdier everyone becomes. Music gets turned up to dance. The keg stops being used for pouring and starts being used for stands. You have the absolute pleasure of watching Erwin hold Levi upside down as the smaller man chugs as much as he can. He beats Nile's record, raises his arms in victory as Erwin shakes him by the shoulders in excitement. 

 "They're pretty close, yeah?" 

 Mike looks down at you as you stand on your tip-toes to get closer to his ear as you speak. 

 He nods. "I don't really understand them, but yeah. They've been friends since, like, elementary school, I think."

 "No shit?"

 "No shit."

 You play beer pong against Gelgar and Nile, end up losing by quite a lot, and by the time you finish the remaining cups and another full drink, you're feeling good. Warm, happy, dangerously giggly. 

 Mike stands too close as you make your rounds to talk to people, many of them asking how the lacrosse season went. He puffs his chest a little, tries and fails to act modest, but instead of getting irritated like you usually do, you find yourself resting your cheek against his arm as you shake your head. You don't know if the action is to disagree with him or to get closer, but it makes Mike chuckle and shift so that he can wrap that arm around you and pull you to his chest instead. 

 He smells nice—woodsy with a sweet little bite. It makes your mouth water. You try to call back your determination from before, that readiness to fight and deny, but Mike's body is firm and massive and hot against yours, and he's also drunk and smiling sideways. His eyes are hazy and gorgeous when he peers down at you. His stubble has grown into that perfect length, the kind that feels incredible between your legs, and you can already see your hands tugging at his shaggy hair as he flips it from his face. 

 "You okay?" He rumbles, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

 He knows. You know he knows. And, he knows that you know that— 

 Fuck. Stop. Just…

 "What do you think?" You're aware of what you're saying. The words make perfect sense. You just can't stop them from falling from your mouth is all. 

 "I don't know," Mike says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Why don't you tell me?" 

 You're not sure if he's asking for your consent or if he just wants to humiliate you by making you spell it out for him. 

 "I mean…" Your gaze travels from his face to his neck to his pecs and downward. "The semester is over."

 "It is," he agrees, hand moving from your waist to your hip. 

 "Don't really need to be, uh… What's the word…" You squeeze your eyes shut, splaying your fingers on his stomach. "Studious," you snap. "Don't need to be so studious on vacation."

 Mike very slowly starts walking backwards toward the staircase, holding you at arms length by both your hips now. 

 "No, you really don't." 

 Voice of reason fading away, you step around him but grab his hand, taking the stairs two by two until you're on the balcony that wraps above the living room. Once you slip into the closer room, yours, you lock the door. 

 Mike's mouth is familiar in its desperation—tastes like beer and want and him. He pulls his flannel off behind him by the sleeves just in time for you to start pushing his shirt up over his abs, in awe all over again at the muscle group. 

 It's really not fair. 

 You pause between kisses to strip, smiling and groaning whenever your lips meet again. You've missed it on some level—the heat, the fucking attraction you just can't shake. All the times you hung out with him, purposely keeping distance, avoiding flirting and touching and staring—you figured it would come to a head. You even guessed there was a good chance that it would be at this party. 

 But, that doesn't mean you're prepared when he throws you onto the bed, doesn't prepare you for the way he bites your lip and sucks on your neck and pinches your nipples until you moan his name and grind against him, and it certainly doesn't prepare you for the way he spreads your legs, runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue over your slit. 

 "Fuck, Mike." 

 He groans, quick to slide the muscle into your pulsing cunt to taste you. His fingertips are digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you still save for your trembling which makes the feeling of his mouth even more intense. You want to buck against his face, want to put out the fire raging inside of you by moving somehow, letting some of the energy out, but you can't. All you can do is lay there as Mike licks around your hole and nibbles at your clit and laps up your juices. 

 "Missed this fuckin' pussy," he breathes, sucking on one of your lips and then the other, pulling blood to the surface and making them puffy and sensitive. 

 You card fingers through his hair before fisting your hand in it and shoving his face further into your cunt, trying as hard as you fucking can to ride any part of him you can manage—his tongue, his nose, anything that will give you friction. 

 The sound he makes at your pathetic attempt is bestial, a low, throaty grunt as he rubs his chin up and down your slit, drenching himself in your slick and quickly overstimulating your swollen clit with his stubble. 

 "Oh fuck, oh fuck—"

 "You wanted it," he grits. "You pushed your sloppy little cunt right in my face, so now you've gotta take everything I give you." 

 You cry as he continues the motion, pussy drooling as the little bud starts to grow raw. "Mike, please, please…"

 "Gonna make sure you feel this tomorrow." He stops only to lean back down and suck your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue is soft in comparison to the coarse hair, but it still makes your hips twitch, and when he grazes his teeth over it, you squeal and kick. 

 It's so close to hurting, right on the edge, but it's that helplessness that has you steadily leaking on the bed. It's what makes it easy for Mike to push a finger into your clenching hole, pump a couple times, then slide another one in beside it. 

 Your climax is coiling in your gut, compressed like a spring and only getting tighter with every thrust of long, thick fingers and every measured flick of his tongue. 

 Gripping his hair again, you ride it out. Mike loosens his grip just enough to allow you to undulate in time with the waves that wash over you, and you moan loudly as he moves to flatten his tongue over your entrance so that you come on and against it. 

 He gives you some time to settle down, but you know he isn't done yet, and since you're not quite ready to take his cock in your sensitive pussy, you pull your legs from the sides of his head and crawl to lay with your head off the side of the bed. 

 Mike gets the picture immediately, and you hear a huff of air leave him all at once before he clambers off the mattress to position himself at the edge. You're a little too low, so he grabs all four pillows to shove under you, and as he does, you lavish his bobbing cock with kitten licks, going as far as sucking on his balls when he leans over you. 

 "Jesus fucking—" 

 You can feel the way they tighten, his cockhead dripping pre that lands just below the notch of your sternum. It isn't until he's thoroughly coated in spit that you stop and let him straighten, then open your mouth and relax your shoulders. 

 Mike is careful as he slides his tip past your lips, letting you adjust to the weight of his cock in your mouth before he pushes in a little further. Your eyes start watering as soon as he passes between your molars, making you stretch your jaw and drool from the corners of your mouth. 

 He pulls out then, taps his cockhead on your cheek, leaving a mix of precum and spit on your skin before lining himself up again and sliding back in. 

 He repeats the process a few times as if it'll actually get you used to his size, but it's just not possible. You gag and gurgle, slurp back drool when you're given the chance, and your entire body throbs when Mike tells you, "I'm gonna give you more now, okay? Wanna see your throat bulge with my cock."

 You moan around him, try to make the passage of your mouth and esophagus as straight as possible then let your eyes roll back as he slips into the tighter sleeve for a few seconds. Your toes dig into the bedspread, fingers clawing at the material as you fight back the panic that comes with not being able to breathe. 

 Mike pulls out panting, and you wish you could see his face, the look in his eyes, but you can't. All you can do is lap at his cock until he pushes it into your mouth again. 

 This time when he slips into your throat, he reaches down to press a hand to your neck, letting out a deep, disbelieving laugh as he feels the way his length moves in it. "Holy shit. I could—" he just barely gives you more, and your responding whine is completely muffled by him, "—Could come like this."

 The thought makes you tingle. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen. You are feeling a little lightheaded. But the idea of him coming down your throat, right into your stomach, fuck, it makes your cunt pulse again. 

 Mike pulls out, and you suck in deep breaths, a little sob making your chest heave. Tears are streaming from your eyes, getting caught in your hair, and you have to wipe other various fluids from your face. 

 He helps you sit back up, rubs your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck as your heart rate returns to normal. As soon as he sees you relax, though, he's tugging you from the bed and bending you over it. 

 The scream that's pushed from you is hoarse as you're split open on his cock. Mike holds you by the hair, pulling your head back as he snaps his hips forward and back relentlessly. He slides in and out of you easily, but that doesn't mean he isn't stretching you to your breaking point. 

 You shake on the bed, thankful when he lets go of your head so that you can fall back to the mattress, crying and moaning all you want. 

 "Feel so good, baby," Mike groans. "So good."

 He punctuates it with a slap to your ass that causes you to squeeze him, and that only encourages him to repeat the action until both your cheeks are radiating heat and stinging from his hands. 

 He flips you like a doll, and you're finally able to see his face clearly as he stares down at you with a dropped jaw and heavy lids. You know you're a mess, fucked out and sloppy, but as he abuses your g-spot with the ridge of his cock, all you can do is grin drunkenly and let your eyes roll. 

 "So pretty when you smile," he praises. Fingers grip your chin, and when you're able to focus your gaze again you find Mike leaning over you, face level with yours. "Open your mouth for me." His tone is soft yet demanding, and you don't hesitate for a second as you do what you're told. 

 Mike pushes spit through his lips, letting it drip and stretch until it lands on your tongue. It makes you feel cheap and disgusting, but it doesn't stop you from squirting around him. 

 Devolving into nothing more than grunts and groans, Mike continues to fuck into you but straightens so that he can reach your clit better. He flicks it back and forth until your true orgasm hits you, and then he keeps going. 

 You cry out, squirm wildly beneath him, but all it results in is two fingers being shoved in your mouth. Stroking over the back of your tongue, more saliva pours from your mouth just like the slick that pours from your pussy while he toys with your clit. 

 You come again. And again. When Mike finally removes his hand from between your legs, you're nothing more than a puddle, moaning and crying for him. 

 Every orgasm has made your walls swell around him, his cock feeling longer and thicker than ever as he kisses your cervix with every thrust. That lightheaded sensation is back, white dots dancing around your eyes, and you just barely manage out his name, tapping in his forearm. 

 "Need… need…"

 "What do you need, babe?"

 Your arms curl up by your head, fingers moving and spasming as every one of your senses is overwhelmed.

  "Need you to—t-to—to come. Need you to c-come." 

 You've never had to tap out before, but you can't take him anymore. His size. His expression. His lack of fucking mercy.

 "Yeah?" He coos, but his cock is still dragging in and out of you. You nod, but Mike draws it out, asking, "Where do you want me to come?"

 "Don't… Care…"

 "You don't care?" He's still moving, fucking you absolutely stupid as he lists out, "Your face? Your tits?" He gropes your chest, pinching both nipples, and the fact that you don't even whimper must clue him into the fact that he's about to lose you. 

 Your mind is swimming, fading every time he pulls out only to be brought back online when he pushes back in. 

 "What about your pussy? Want me to come all over your pussy?" 

 You moan, the simplest part of your brain apparently finding that appealing, so after a few more thrusts, Mike pulls out entirely and jerks himself off until he covers your folds in hot cum. He gets some on your thighs, some on your pelvis, soaks your peaking clit so that you take in a stuttering breath. 

 His hand is between your legs again, fingertips spreading the viscous fluid around and dipping into your slit.

 Your eyes shoot open for the first time in God knows how long, a panicked, "M-Mike," tumbling from your lips, but he hushes you.

 "I'm not pushing it inside or anything. Just having fun."

 And, fuck, tonight is the night you learn how filthy he is. Mike spends a few solid minutes rubbing his seed over your puffy lips, fingers the raw tissue around your hole so that you leak for him, then uses it to massage your clit slowly and softly, pulling one last orgasm from you that makes fresh tears spring in your eyes. 

 You're going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you can't regret it—not when your legs continue to shake long after your climax, not when you can already feel that satisfying ache deep inside of you, not when Mike crawls to sit on the bed and lifts you into his arms. 

 "You okay?" He asks into your hair. 

 He's rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you drift in and out. You know you need to shower, but you're so tired and so wrecked, you doubt you'll be able to stand for long enough to clean yourself. 

 "Did I hurt you?" 

 "Mm, little bit," you tell him honestly. You can actually feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest, so you reassure him, "Liked it, though."

 You think something like twenty minutes pass, but you can't be sure as you keep dozing. It's hard not to with Mike rubbing your stomach, his body rising and falling in rhythm with every breath he takes. 

 When your eyes open more than halfway, you begin to move, grimacing at the soreness between your legs as well as the mess. 

 "'m gonna hop in the shower," you announce. 

 Mike sits up too, stretches his arms and asks through a groan, "Want me to come with?"

 "You've done enough coming tonight," you snort. "But nah, I can clean myself on my own."

 His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, just lets you get up and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs. 

 The hot water almost puts you back to sleep. You manage to rinse off where you need to, step back into the room fully expecting to see Mike passed out in your bed, but he's nowhere to be found. 

 As you crawl under the covers, you try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that's stuck in your throat. 

 *

Mike is up before almost everyone in the house the next morning, so he spends most of it trying to clean up alongside Levi, though he apparently isn't doing a very good job of it according to the smaller man. 

 "Jesus, have you ever mopped a floor in your life?" 

 "Oh, so we're just throwing everything in the same trash bag? No recycling? Your future kids will thank you for that, I'm sure."

 "No, there's no way I’m letting you wipe down the counters. Just move." 

 Levi is lucky Mike is as laid back as he is otherwise he would have thrown the little fuck into the koi pond behind the house a long time ago. 

 Erwin wakes up around nine and walks down looking a little rough, but Mike has definitely seen him in worse states. 

 "Thanks for cleaning up," he says, bent over the island and holding his head in his hands. "Pretty sure I would have thrown up if I'd tried. Several times."

 He tells the other two that pretty much everyone else started heading out at around three and that he has a list of party-goers he needs to text to make sure they made it home in one piece, "When I can actually fucking see straight."

 Naturally, the conversation turns to Mike. Erwin, with his cheek now pressed against the cool, granite countertop, smirks up at him and asks in a sly voice, "So, how was your night?' 

 Mike bites his lip to hide a smile, leans out of the kitchen to make sure you aren't stumbling down the stairs or traipsing about the house, then looks back to his friend and laughs, "Fucking mind-blowing, dude." He doesn't go into explicit detail—that's never been his style—but he does whisper about you taking him better than any other girl and that he's, "Addicted, dude. I genuinely think I am addicted to her pussy." 

 "Don't be fucking dramatic, Zacharias," you pop out behind him, slapping his back as you pass him to get to the fridge. He can see the ghost of a smile turning your lips up, but it's hard to feel satisfied at that when his own face is beet red. 

 Looking at Erwin, Mike throws his hands out by his side, mutters an incredulous, "Dude," that makes the other blond chuckle. 

 You grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, making Levi grumble, "Are none of you guys concerned about the planet? God damn."

 Standing between Mike and Erwin, you take a few gulps, all eyes on you until you swallow and question, "Can I help you?" Now that you're right next to him, Mike can hear a scratchiness to your voice, almost as if you're getting sick, but he knows better, knows exactly where it came from, and fuck if it doesn't make him twitch in his sweats. 

 "Have a good time at the party?" Erwin pries once again. 

 You look at him with a deadpan expression, then answer, "Seems like you already got the deets, so sure. I had a grand time."

 Mike isn't sure if you're being sarcastic about it just like you are everything else. You had just kind of left him hanging when you'd gone to shower. He hadn't thought too much into it even if he'd been a little bummed, but he thinks he understands. You just need more space than he does. 

 Or, it could have been that you hadn't enjoyed yourself. Oh god, what if you'd just been faking? What if you'd lied to him when he asked if he hurt you? What if you're in pain right now and just hiding it? 

 Mike zones out while you talk with Erwin and Levi about plans for the day, works himself into a nice little panic but is still able to hear you tell them you're just gonna head back to your mom's. 

 "You sure?" Erwin asks. "I know you only planned to stay one night, but you're more than welcome to hang out for longer. We’ll be here for at least another few days."

 Levi adds an, "Unfortunately," that earns him a hair ruffle he swats away. 

 "No, it's cool. I can't leave mom alone for the holiday or she'll start to think I don't like staying at the house."

 "You don't, though."

 "Yeah, but she doesn't have to know that."

 Mike stares after you as you take your water bottle and return upstairs, and it doesn't escape the notice of the other two men. 

 "You're so fuckin' whipped, man," Erwin teases. 

 Mike doesn't deny it, just holds up a middle finger. 

 Erwin isn't entirely wrong, though. Mike has been trying to deny it or play it off as nothing more than lust, but there's more to his feelings at this point. He tries not to be obvious around you, to keep his cards close to his chest because he knows you just want to keep things casual—barely even want that if he's being honest. 

 So he can hide it. He can pretend it isn't happening. In fact, Mike should be thankful that you only want sex (sometimes) because it leaves him to do whatever he wants. He could fuck other chicks left and right, and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. That's a good thing, right? 

 That worry about last night still has him on edge, though, so before you can leave, Mike catches you in your room as you're packing up and closes the door. 

 He expects you to make some kind of comment about not being able to go again, but all you do is tilt your head to the side in a dangerously cute way. 

 "Hey, I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you felt okay after last night." 

 You blink at him, pause in folding your clothes, then show a wide, real grin. 

 "Yeah, I'm fine. Sore in various places—like, super sore—but I'm fine."

 Mike's mouth twists to hide his smirk, and he mumbles a low, "Sorry."

 "Don't ever apologize for your monster cock," you tell him, setting your shirt down on the mattress before pacing over to him. "Like, unless there's tearing of some sort, which there really shouldn't be since you're good at preparation, whoever you fuck should be okay. Sore but okay."

 His eyes go a little wide when you stop in front of him, looking up with an expression he's really never seen before—or maybe that you've never allowed him to see before—and the longer he stares, the more he realizes that you're god damn glowing. 

 Taking a chance, he finds your waist with his hands, inches just a little closer, then leans down when you stand on your toes and tug him by the shirt. 

 You taste like peppermint and already smell like the perfume you wear every day, the scent that has made Mike dizzy for the past few months. He moves a hand to your back to press your body into his, and when you take his bottom lip into your mouth, biting and sucking, he groans and pulls back before he can get too hard. 

 "What's all this? Why are you so perky this morning?" 

 "I get giddy after good sex," you say with a shrug. "Sue me."

 "That why you run away every time I fuck you?" He questions.

 You nod. "Couldn't run away this time, though."

 "I'm sure it's really bruising your pride, letting me see you all warm and gooey." 

 "I am not warm and gooey," you protest. "I was last night, but—"

 "Aw, gross, why'd you have to say it like that?" 

 You giggle—giggle—then remind him, "You're the one who felt the need to fucking fingerpaint."

 Mike vividly remembers the way your pussy looked covered in his cum, the way it felt to smear it and play with your swollen entrance and clit, and now… Now he is definitely hard again. 

 "Better stop before you end up on that bed again."

 Your eyes are dancing, tone mischievous when you respond, "Only if you're gentle."

 "Christ—"

 He's got you naked and spread on the mattress in less than thirty seconds, tongue buried in your cunt as he soothes every part of you he can reach. 

 It would be cruel to actually fuck you again. He knows you're probably a little more tender than you're letting on, so Mike settles for licking into you and flicking your clit, never using teeth as it swells in his mouth so that you pant and moan, and promise, "I can handle it, Mike, I can…"

 "I don't care if you can or can't. Just lemme do this."

 And, it's not like he hasn't pulled his cock from his pants, pumping it and coating his length in the pre-cum he drips at the mere sight of you.

 He can tell you're getting close when your thighs start to tense. You alternate between shifting your hips and going slack. It's the latter that you leak the most, pussy opening around his tongue only to clench a few seconds later. 

 "Just one finger, Mike, please, I want—I need something inside me, please, please," you moan. 

 Mike turns his face to kiss your thigh, sighing but giving in easily when he acquiesces, "Only one."

 The noise you make as he slides his middle finger into you is like music, high pitched and drawn out, with an awe one would sing hymns with. 

 "Yes, yes, yes, thank you, fuck, tha—"

 He understands why you wanted it so badly when he pulls it out and sees his finger coated in white, considers fucking you with it to the point of tears, but before he can, the door to the bedroom swings open and fucking Erwin walks in to ask, "Levi and I are going to the store—"

 “Jesus fuck, Erwin!" Mike swears. "A little busy here!"

 His friend is unfazed, but more importantly, you are too, arching your back, pulling Mike's hair to get him back where you want him, then moaning his name like you never have before as you come. 

 You tremble and take in stuttering breaths, and Mike does his best to hide your exposed pussy from prying eyes as he looks at Erwin and barks out a furious, "No, I don't need anything from the store. Get out."

 The blond shrugs and turns, walking out without shutting the door, and Mike swears he's gonna kill him. He's too bold and too entitled and now he's seen far too much of your body, and Mike doesn't like that. 

 "Did you come?" You ask in an airy voice. Mike guesses you could feel the rhythm of his hand on his cock, probably pushing his face harder against you with every pass. 

 "Uh, no. I don't know if you noticed, but Erwin walked in."

 "I noticed," you snort, sitting up on your elbows. "Why do you think I moaned your name like that?"

 "What?" It had seemed a little odd. Mike knows he's pretty good at oral, but you've never made a sound like that before. 

 "Fucker wanted to see what we were up to, I decided to show him. Now he knows how good you are."

 Mike stands, peers down at you skeptically and says, "You're being too nice to me today. It's freakin' me out a little."

 He doesn't think it's necessary to add that Erwin is already aware of his sexual prowess considering they definitely had a threesome with a rather adventurous girl back in freshman year. It's just not pertinent information. 

 "Soak it up, Zacharias. I'm sure the good mood will be gone by tomorrow."

 "Why, cause I won't be at your mom's to fuck you stupid every night?" His voice comes out cocky, but it's stifled by the way you squeal when he slaps a hand over your wet pussy.

 "I'm sensitive, you asshole!" You're smiling even as you whine. "And, here I was about to give you head to get you off."

 "I mean, you can still do that."

 You glare up at him the whole time you slide off the bed to your knees, warn, "Better hope I don't bite."

 *

 After you leave (and after making out against Mike’s Wrangler for a little too long), he goes back inside to find Erwin and Levi lounging in the den with a movie playing. He wastes no time in snapping his fingers at Erwin and commanding, "We're gonna talk."

 "Oh, are we?" Erwin doesn't even look away until Mike grabs the back of his shirt, and only then does he move from his spot. "Okay, okay, watch the wrinkles, bro."

 He follows Mike into the kitchen, out of earshot unless either of them raise their voices which… Could happen. 

 "What the fuck was that?" Mike hisses. 

 Erwin looks at him with big blue eyes and plays dumb, "What the fuck was what?" 

 Taking a deep breath through his nose, Mike makes sure his voice comes out low and steady, "Smith, I swear to God, it's been a long time since I've punched you, but you're fuckin' testing me, dude."

 Erwin smiles, face lighting up with what looks like excitement but could also be fury. 

 "Mike," he starts. "Don't tell me you're getting violent over a girl." His tone is patronizing, his eyebrows are high, and his grin is downright menacing. 

 "I haven't gotten violent yet," Mike grits. 

 "Hey, how was I to know what you two were doing up there?" 

 "It's not about you walking in, dude! It's about you just fucking standing there!"

 Erwin chuckles and blows him off, "Mike, I've seen your dick before. You've got nothing to worry about."

 "That's not what I'm worried about. You just, like, came in when she was in a vulnerable position, and that's fucked up."

 "She didn't seem to mind."

 Mike sucks his teeth, takes another grounding breath, then asks again, "Why? Why did you wait to leave?" 

 "You want me to be honest?" Erwin rolls his neck then his shoulders. Mike has seen him do that many times before lacrosse games to loosen up—to get ready for a fight. 

 Mike's fist clenches at his side. "Yeah, I do."

 "You've been making yourself crazy over this girl since the start of the semester, and I want to know why."

 "What do you mean?" Mike doesn't know why he asks, has a pretty good idea of what Erwin is alluding to. 

 The blond still dodges the question but in about the worst way possible. "It's not like you two are exclusive or anything."

 Mike feels the way his lungs fill to the point of burning, how his jaw clenches until his molars begin to ache under the pressure, and before he really knows what's happening, he's bowing up to his best friend. 

 Erwin matches him, only a couple inches shorter, chin tilted, that maddening light in his eyes. 

 "Walk away, Mike," he warns. "And, we can forget this little spat even happened."

 Mike peers down his nose at him, trying to rein in his emotions because Erwin is right. You two aren't exclusive. You don't want to be. You told him it was because you need to focus on school, but it could be that you want other options. 

 But fuck, Mike doesn't want Erwin to be one of them. He's stolen more than a few girls right from under Mike's nose with his stupid charm and stupid face and stupid money. He doesn't want you to fall prey to all of it too. 

 Mike doesn't even register the quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen, but Levi's smartass, "You guys about to kiss or somethin'?" definitely snaps him out of his head. 

 Stepping back, Mike resists the urge to punch the counter and break his fucking hand, then turns and strides out. 

 He's supposed to stay at the ranch house for a couple more days, but Mike needs to distance himself before he does something stupid. 

 When he comes back downstairs with his bag on his shoulder and his keys in his hand, Erwin seems to realize his error on at least some level and stands from his place on the couch. 

 "Mike, come on, I'm sor—"

 "Let me cool off, dude,” Mike snaps.

 Erwin shuts his mouth and sits back down, smart enough not to follow Mike outside.

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